Strangely Cathartic
by nightblight
Summary: This is a case file combined with a character study, and of course a little bit of romance. A fatal shooting at a crime scene reveals that all is not what it seemed in Sara Sidle's life. GSR GSR GSR
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **They are not mine, they belong to CBS - though I am saving up for them

A very special thanks to my two amazing Betas : Mrose and Bellabrew. You are both outstanding and I am grateful for the time and effort you have put in.

This story is a casefile with romantic overtones. It may take a while to see it, but if you look hard enough you will find them lurking there amongst all of the words!

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**Chapter 1**

_Make it go away or make it better_

_Isn't that what love is supposed to do?_

_(Dark Dear Heart – Holly Cole)_

_**North Las Vegas **_

_**256 Rosemount Lane**_

_**August 21, 2006**_

**_1:05 pm_**

Greg Sanders glanced at the dashboard clock before taking a final sip of the roof-tar that was being passed off as coffee, by the local donut shop. He was midway through his second shift, and reporting to the scene of a 419 that he hoped would be more interesting than the trick roll he'd processed at the beginning of the night. The afternoon air was heavy with the possibility of an unusual, but impending Las Vegas thunderstorm.

Casting an uncertain glance around him, he shucked off the almost palpable smell of rotting garbage that was drifting out of the alleyway beside the small cookie cutter home he'd just been called to. The house itself unimpressive, one of about ten others on the end of a small dead end street, it fit in perfectly. Aside from the differing colors of peeling paint, and the yellow tape that cordoned it off, it could easily have been lost in amongst the thousands of others in the poverty stricken outlying neighborhood.

Number 256, itself, was a grayed mint green, with clap board shutters, all of which were missing a varying number of slats, and a few of which were missing entirely. The front lawn was a small patch of wilted and dying greenery that was frequently interrupted by bald patches of darkened earth.

Standing at the foot of the driveway and engrossed in the inspection of a king sized Marlboro was a tall older man, with thinning fire red hair and a host of orange freckles. Tanner Mayfield was a level three CSI and had been for fifteen years. Though advancement had at one time been his prime ambition, years of gruesome crime scenes and slogging evidence, and had worn away his lofty aspirations to a dull and complacent boredom. At this point in his career, he was content with simply showing up at his assignment and clocking out on time. Inhaling deeply he took a final drag, and dropped the remaining filter into the storm drain at the edge of the crumbling curb.

Walking up to join his assigned partner, Greg stared at the older CSI standing outside the yellow crime tape, and took in the wrinkled condition of his ill fitting gray suit. "Hey Mayfield..." He intoned tiredly. He wouldn't have minded the 419 at the beginning of his first shift. But mid way through his second, he was less than enthusiastic. His own black t-shirt and pants were already moist with sweat of the previous night, and he felt as though the dirt of the desert had city had permanently fixed itself to his skin.

"Sanders…" The red-head spit up a small pile of phlegm around an explosive cough, and stared at the younger man listlessly, as it flew from his thin mouth into the sewer. The last thing he needed was a wet behind the ears newbie messing up his crime scene.

"Prime real estate..." Greg noted conversationally; his eyes following the cordoned off perimeter to where a rotund Detective O'Reilly was talking to a skinny platinum blonde with big hair, who was dressed in Walmart's version of professional office attire. Her voice was a high pitched squeak, and slightly garbled by the wad of gum she was talking around. "Tell me, again, why am I working with you?" Sanders turned to the man beside him. He knew that things were insanely busy, but wondered who he'd pissed off to be partnered up with CSI's version of Napoleon Dynamite. "It seems that this is actually a day shift case… Not that I am complaining mind you, but has anyone cleared this with Gil Grissom? I'm already close to maxing out my overtime this month. He's likely to feed me to his roaches if he needs me for something and the big Kahunas who sign my paycheck say no…"

"We're slammed up the wazoo little man." Aggravation was woven into Mayfield's words, and served as enough of a warning to end Greg Sander's questions. "Ecklie's orders, we're stretched to the max, screw the overtime. If you are paged you come in, even if you're not on call. Almost everyone has put in a second or third shift already - even on graveyard. You're the freshest we have right now." That said the man threw a quick look around the perimeter as Detective O'Reilly closed his notebook and walked toward the two CSIs.

"The roommate works for the Office Angels temp agency. She was sent home from work early today and found the front door unlocked and her friend dead." The large detective led them into the house. Stopping outside the living room he faced them, his expression serious."Brace yourselves." He warned, before making his way over to the body.

The small living area was stifling and the odor of old dust and mildew permeated the air. Greg noted upon closer inspection, that the home did appear to be tidy, if not clean. Clearly the occupants though not wealthy, had tried to make it a comfortable place to live. The pale mismatched furnishings were worn, but well maintained and stood out against the bright red paint of the living room walls. The thick white sheers covering the small front window had been pulled shut to keep out the penetrating light and heat of a Las Vegas summer day and from the few details Greg could make out within the semi-darkness, they were doing their job well

"Hey, Dave..." Greg greeted the assistant coroner as he wobbled through the door, his bag clutched tightly in one thick hand.

Both Mayfield and Greg stepped around an older model wide screen TV and took in the unmoving form in the middle of the room. O'Reilly's warning had peeked their curiosity, since both had seen more than their share of grisly bodies, and despite the unsettling fact that it was a dead woman, nothing seemed to be worthy of his concern.

The victim, a lithe young woman lay face down on the hardwood floor, her slender arms and legs splayed out at odd angles in relation to her torso. There was no blood, just a pair of black pantyhose wrapped garrote style around her slim pale neck. Her underwear were torn and sat in a crumpled heap about 4 feet away, as if thrown there. Her thin plaid skirt had been unceremoniously yanked up around her waist.

David crouched by the body his gloved hand shoving aside the long dark hair draped across the dead woman's face.

Greg Sanders was the first to react. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to hammer its way out of his chest. "Holy shit, man…" The words rolled out of his mouth, tainted with fear and pain.

A soft "No way…" escaped David's pursed mouth, and he too felt a surge of dread wash over him.

"Yeah…" O'Reilly nodded sadly, and threw a chin at the victim whose dark eyes stared at them, unseeing. "I almost had a heart attack when I first saw her face." He pointed to a smiling photo on the one of the 60's styled end tables "If it hadn't been for a positive ID from the roommate, Cassey Adams, I would've been totally messed up."

"So its not…?" Sanders choked out, unable to take his eyes off the striking familiarity of the woman in front of him, and still trying to slow the thudding in his chest.

"No…" The large police man shook his head.

"What's the vic's name?" Mayfield looked at each of the three men uncertain as to what was causing their stress.

"An office clerk… Wendy Maran..." O'Reilly read from his black notebook. "She works at a small dealership around the corner from here. According to the roommate she religiously came home for lunch everyday." He nodded to the reddened areas decorating her interior thigh area. "Looks like she's been raped, too..."

Still trembling in disbelief, Greg Sanders pulled the camera from his case and shot positional photos of the body before David shifted her onto her back.

Everyone in the room remained quiet, as he drew a thermometer from his bag and plunged it into the young woman's liver. The numbers tumbled for a moment, and stopped.

David studied the digital reading for a second and then yanked the thermometer out. "She died within the last hour; liver temp has not dropped significantly and she is still warm…" The assistant coroner announced and backed away.

Immediately, the room burst into a flurry of activity. Greg ran back to the SUV to grab the necessary equipment. Right now, there was little or no time left to speculate on the woman's resemblance to a certain brunette who worked the night shift. There might still be prints left on the body. Despite the crush of time constraints, the young CSI was sorely temped to hit the speed dial on his cell phone, just to hear Sara Sidle's lush voice. He chucked the notion aside as he lugged the items into the living area and dropped them on the floor with a thud. He'd definitely call later.

With David's help the two CSIs began a frantic set up of equipment. They had the chamber in place and the cyanoacrylate fumer started within 7 minutes. Now all they could do was wait for the fumes to do their job and hopefully turn up something useful

_**North Las Vegas **_

_**1699 Ascot Dr.**_

_**Aug 21, 2006 **_

**_5:00 pm_**

When Sara pulled to a stopoutside of her assignment she was more than a little surprised to see his dark blue Denali already parked in front of the home's dilapidated fence. They hadn't worked a case together in two months, not since that fateful night in the locker room when David Hodges caught them in playful kiss. It was, a momentary indiscretion that exposed them to the one person they knew would willingly rat them out. Had it been anyone else, Sara figured there was a chance that they could have kept it to themselves - at least a little longer.

While there had been major concerns at first, they'd proven in the two months prior to the discovery, that they could maintain a very rigid separation between their work and their relationship. So things had changed, though surprisingly not as significantly as they had predicted.

It had taken a month or so before the gossip about them being officially a couple had finally died down leaving behind only quiet acceptance. The biggest change was that they could no longer be partnered together for assignments when they were on shift at the same time. Since this rule had come from the top, they didn't fight it.

A moment later, she caught sight of his familiar shape stepping around the hood; field kit in hand. A tight ball of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach. Hopping out she watched as he approached the two uniformed officers who had just exited the front door. Having spotted her, he winked in her direction, before slipping into an easy conversation with the two men.

Her breathing accelerated, and a weight took up residence in her chest, but she fought it back. Grabbing her own kit Sara, made her way around the car and waited as Brass pulled up behind her and jumped out of his sedan. She noted the look of surprise on the Captain's face as his eyes passed from her to her lover and back again. He was well aware of both the situation and the "rule" and was clearly thrown, though it only showed briefly.

"Must be a really busy evening…" He noted as he fell into step beside her.

_Keep it together Sidle,_ her subconscious threw out the order, and she forced herself to relax. "I got the call at home." She informed him indicating she was equally as perplexed. "Swing must be inundated."

"…think it might be a domestic dispute gone bad… We've been here a few times and hauled the husband in for the night more than once." They overheard the younger of the two officers explaining as they moved up in front of him. "There's one DB in the kitchen and another on the couch." He threw a thumb back towards the door. "It's pretty fresh…"

Nodding Sara shivered softly, unsure whether it was brought on by the reality of this being yet another unsettling domestic crime scene or the unusually cool and overcast Las Vegas summer night. Her childhood memories always floated to the surface when faced with these scenarios.

"Have you cleared the place yet?" Brass enquired, his hand going instinctively to his holster.

"Yeah," the older officer, confirmed, and stepped aside. "We were careful not to disturb anything." He pointed to the front door. "The living room is right when you step in. The man is on the couch, it looks like he might be the shooter. The woman's in the kitchen, she's been beaten pretty badly, her face looks like raw hamburger and she is sporting a hole in her chest the size of my fist."

Brass nodded and made his way towards the door, both CSIs hot on his heels.

"Here…" Sara reached into her pocket and pulled out two pairs of paper booties, before slipping hers on, she passed a set to Brass. Throwing a glance beside her to see if her partner was ready, Sara met with two charismatic blue eyes.

He mouthed the word _sorry_ in her direction.

Seizing her kit, Sara shook off his words, her professional decorum wrapping around her like a protective shroud.

"I'll take the kitchen," He offered peaceably. He was well aware of Sara's familial history and made a beeline for the back room the minute they entered the home. Brass moved after him, leaving Sara standing alone at the threshold.

A single lamp in the corner illuminated the living area enough for her to see the DB clearly, but the quality of the light lent itself to little or no detail. Casting a look around she suddenly felt her knees go weak. To say it was a pigsty was being kind. It looked like the sky had opened up and rained a several months worth of garbage down on the small space. There were beer cans and empty liquor bottles strewn about the room.

A threadbare carpet, that looked like it might have once been a dark pea green, covered the floor from door to kitchen and sported darkened muddy looking patches that no doubt contributed to the overwhelming stench of dirt and feces that blanketed the entire house. Sara's stomach churned. This was not specifically because of the smell, though it did, in fact, rival many of the two day old decomps she had worked. But mostly, it was born of familiarity, and the humiliating knowledge that if you had taken this home and placed it on 56 23rd St. in San Francisco, it could have been the place she'd called home for the early part of her teen years.

The house in San Francisco and her life there was so different from that of her childhood. Though fraught with abuse, her life before the move had been almost normal. Her parent's bed and breakfast in Tamales Bay was one of the town's few thriving businesses, so there had been nothing she had ever wanted for materially. Her home was clean, her plate was always full and she had a closet full of clothes. Emotionally, was a different story; but as a child she was a bright and social little girl, so there'd never been any shortage of friends to fill in the empty spaces her parents had left unattended.

All that had changed by her 10th year. As with most things, a lack of care and nurturing had caused a gradual erosion of both her family's business and their home life. Mired in debt brought on by alcohol and drug abuse, her parents had sold the family home and business and ripped her from the only life she knew…

"_Evan…" The words had been gasped in aching disbelief, and her hand went instinctively to the older boy's limp fingers. _

"_What did you expect, little sis, a castle?" His face was a twisted mask of his own disappointment, and his red rimmed eyes said it all. He had been prepared for this eventuality, and had mainlined some of the 'good stuff' just before saying a final good bye to their real home in Tamales Bay. It was the only thing he knew that would stave off the pain, and allow him to look into the horror in his little sister's dark eyes – without falling completely apart._

_He wanted to walk away, just scream fuck it and fuck you all, and disappear into the anonymity that life in the big city would allow. But now, staring down at the awkwardly thin ten year-old at his side, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. "It'll be alright." His words softened, and he watched as she let go of his hand and ambled up the rotting wood steps, of their new home, a tattered knapsack clutched in her slim feminine fingers. _

_She was stunning by all standards; a tall beauty with long dark curls, and dancing coffee colored eyes. Six years her senior, he'd been forced on more than one occasion to remind his friends that, firstly she was his sister, and secondly, despite her stature, she was still way too young to be looked at as anything other than a child. Though, now as he stared at her standing expectantly on the ramshackle front porch, he understood what they saw. Two long slim legs had been topped off by a worn pair of extremely short cutoffs, and her ill fitting red t-shirt betrayed the beginning of her slow shift into puberty. He shook his head as she smiled uncertainly at him. He was her older brother. He should be the one to protect her, since no one else in his family could give a fuck. But how could he help her find her way, when their shared history had already predetermined that she was would be as broken as he was?_

The memory of that fateful day was as ingrained in her. Her support system shot all to hell, Sara had changed dramatically that year. She'd gone from a fairly happy and outgoing child, to a young girl who was both withdrawn and secretive. Though there were many times during her younger days that she'd suffered extreme humiliation at the hands of her parents, lifelong friends had always been there to help her laugh her way through it. For all intents and purposes she had still seen herself as normal. This was not the case by the time she started middle school. With the cash left over from the sale of the B&B her parents had purchased the small rundown house on the outskirts of San Francisco, and from that moment on embarrassment had become her constant companion and her brother an absentee.

Tugging her thoughts back to the present she shoved down the emotions playing tricks with her stomach. Squinting, she caught sight of a man slumped over the couch on the opposite wall. For a moment she wondered if he might have defecated upon death, but the disgusting culprit was actually a moving pile of maggots, flies and dog crap, which she nearly stepped in as she slipped around the half-wall that, divided the entrance from the living room. Watching her footing, she picked her way around the bricks and plywood that had been propped up for use as a coffee table and stared down at the victim.

A hole from a large caliber firearm had entirely blown away the left side of his head at the same time spraying bits of brain, skull and blood across the ancient and yellowing wallpaper. Slumped on the crusted and moth eaten couch, lay a man, who looked to be in his late forties. He wore a blood soaked wife-beater which stretched impossibly over the wide expanse of his abdomen, and ended just above a sagging pair of red boxers. A dark greasy ponytail lay across what was left of his face and looked to have adhered itself to the seeping wound. Grimacing Sara studied the one dark and staring eye that hung loosely from the missing eye socket.

Sara wrinkled her nose and inspected the floor around her. There was a small spot that was devoid of trash carefully placed her kit there before withdrawing her camera from its case.

Triple shots all around… She started with the spatter on the wall and worked her way to the body, paying special attention to both the position of the victim and the injury.

"This is a really large wound… doesn't look like it is from a handgun." She announced to Brass as he moved in front of the pass through to the kitchen. "They said they thought he was the shooter - indicating a murder-suicide, but there's no weapon here. The officers said they didn't disturb the scene. Did they take the gun?" Sara stood up and stared into the kitchen.

A flash of light played out across the cupboards indicating another photo session underway in the other room. "You heard them yourself. They said they stayed clear." Brass stared back at her.

Grabbing her flashlight, Sara dropped to her knees and scanned under the coffee table and then the couch. There was no gun to be found only more garbage and stale cigarette butts.

"What's this?" She asked no one in particular. Running her flashlight across the underside of the couch a second time she spotted it again; a metallic glint in amongst some old food wrappers. Snapping a quick shot she dropped the camera and grabbed a long pair of forceps.

"Careful! I've got a needle…" She announced loudly. "Keep your eyes peeled." Seizing a plastic container she stowed her prize and returned her attention to the body. The last thing anyone needed was to be stuck with a dirty hypodermic.

The scene looked all wrong. "I don't know if this is a domestic as first indicated…" She began naming all of the visual evidence that seemed out of place. "I can't find a weapon. The wound does not look self-inflicted. Angle of the blood spatter looks off, too…"

There was a fresh pile of vomit off to the side of couch, she reached down and scooped up a sample. Behind it there was a stack of ancient magazines with what looked like a tuft of pink fur peeking out from underneath them. Photographing it, she then grasped the pink fur and pulled. Out popped a grubby one eared bunny. "Brass…" She held the rabbit up and waved it around. "There may be a child here."

"The uniforms cleared the scene, Sara. No child. Maybe it belongs to a neighbor's kid..."

Sara shook her head spotting another flash of grimy pink and held up a pair of child's underwear that had come loose when she'd retrieved the toy. "You know children who live in fear learn how to make themselves invisible…" She stared at him brandishing the undies; her mind drifting back to the many times she'd sought refuge from her own family's brutality.

He threw his hands up in resignation and entered the living room; clearly the young woman had some valid concerns... "I'll go take a look around."

"Thanks…" She smiled almost shyly, dropped the toy and the underwear into separate bindles, and reached into her kit for a swab, hoping that she was wrong.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1

Thanks to all that have reviewed you are terrific for taking the time to let me know your thoughts.

A special thanks to my Betas without you I would be at a loss. Mrose and Bellabrew you are the best!

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**Chapter 2**

_Hey now all you sinners, put your lights on_

_Hey now all you lovers, put your lights on_

_(Everlast – Whitey Ford sings the blues)_

_**North Las Vegas **_

_**256 Rosemount Lane**_

_**August 21, 2006**_

**_5:30 pm_**

The hallway was small, dark, and strewn with much the same garbage as the rest of the home. Basking in the glow of a dim hall light, a fat roach clung boldly to the wall beside the first door Brass came to. It was closed, but a fist sized hole at eye level, told of the violence that had become part of the home's history.

Jim Brass had been surprised when he found the first closed door, irritated when there was second one, but a tremor of anger ran through him at finding a third. There should be no closed doors. If the building had been properly cleared then those doors should have been open. Had the officers even checked out this part of the house? Drawing his sidearm, Brass wrapped a hand around the door handle and instinctively took on a semi-crouched position prepared for any danger he might face. The knob turned easily in his hand and the door creaked open to reveal another dimly lit room. He waited a moment before stepping in and quickly scanned the room.

There was a single naked mattress lying in the middle of the floor. Soiled and shabby, it had clearly seen better days. To the right there stood a short bureau, covered with a variety of used drug paraphernalia, and to the left there was a half open closet door. Moving cautiously across the filth strewn floor, he made his way to the door and quickly threw it open, only to discover it empty except for a pile of soiled clothes and what looked like more discarded needles.

"Beautiful…" he mumbled to himself and made his way back into the hall.

The next door led to a decrepit bathroom, which also proved vacant. Another pile of clothes in the corner indicated that Sara may have been right, since Brass doubted that neither of the victims would either fit into, or wear, what looked to be a pair of child's size 2 pink Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas.

The final door at the end of the hall edged his blood pressure up a few notches. Bracing himself, he prayed that he would not find another DB. Dead children, despite his hardened exterior and many years of exposure to them, still managed to cause him an almost intolerable amount of pain. Every time he was faced with the dead body of a child he would take days to recover. The inevitable loss of such a young life, with a world of potential, only served to remind him of the very real loss of his only living child. In his eyes he still saw the cynical streetwalker she'd become, as the innocent six year old she used to be.

Steeling himself, he threw open the door and stepped into the room. Met by what could only be described a virtually solid aroma of decay and human waste, Brass automatically threw his free hand up over his nose and mouth.

"Mother of God…" He uttered staring into the pitch-blackness of the room. His second and immediate response was to step out of the light of the hallway that now illuminated his back and into the relative obscurity of the room. His foot landed on something soft and lumpy, almost knocking him off balance.

A string of soft curses left his lips as he reached for the light switch. Grateful, he was still wearing his gloves; Jim carefully tapped the plate and squinted as the overhead light flicked on, his gun trailing a hasty path around the room at the same time.

This space also appeared to be empty. A small child's bed sat abandoned in the corner, its mattress and the floor around it practically invisible under piles of used and discarded diapers. Other than the refuse and some more dirty laundry tossed in the corner, the room was barren; no furniture, no toys, nothing except for a dark ragged sheet covering the room's only window.

Making his way over to the bed he quickly peered under it. It was only a few inches off the floor and an unlikely hiding place for anyone, even a small child. His speculation proved to be right; the only thing his search managed to turn up was more dirt and a small picture book.

Casting a glance at the only other door in the room he carefully picked his way through the debris and sucked in a lungful of the foul air. "Ready or not!" he muttered, bringing his gun up and throwing the door open.

At first the closet appeared to contain much the same stuff that filled all the other rooms; dirty clothes, and more rubbish. He was about to leave the room when something caused him to stop and to take a second look. That's when he found her.

Cowering under a filthy blanket, and practically buried beneath two black garbage bags, sat a little brown haired girl. Dressed in a soiled white tank top, she stared up at him with a look of such utter terror that it broke his heart. She couldn't have been more than three.

"Hey…" He uttered softly, and hastily re-holstered his firearm. She pulled the blanket up over her head again, and tried to disappear.

"My name is Jim…" He reached out and shoved the closest bag aside. "I won't hurt you…" He placed a gloved hand on the blanket and tugged gently. The little girl's head and shoulders reappeared again, but she clutched the blanket for dear life.

"Come on," he reached in and took hold of her. "Let's get you out of here."

She stiffened when he put his arms around her and hoisted her out of the closet. She was as light as a feather. "Don't worry. I'm a police man." He said soothingly, trying to ease her fear.

Her grubby white shorts were completely soaked through with urine, as was the blanket she was wrapped in. Brass cringed and adjusted her in his arms.

"I'm going to bring you outside and someone there will take care of you, but I first you need to do something for me." He told her making his way out into the hallway. Stopping he looked at her small grubby face to see if there was any indication that she understood.

"I want you to close your eyes until I tell you to open them…" He looked at her intently. "Do you understand?"

Two ebony eyes stared back at him. She nodded almost imperceptibly and then complied.

"Great…" He said with false cheer, and pulling her close to him; stepped out into the living room.

"Good call, Sara…" Jim Brass announced as he reappeared at the end of the hall with a human bundle in his hands.

All she could see was a sprig of chaotic dark hair poking out the top of the blanket, and two skeletal legs dangling from below. Sara' heart squeezed at the sight.

Even from across the room he could see the look of horror glistening in the young CSI's eyes. "Don't worry…" he reassured her. "She's a mess, but she's okay."

With that he made his way out the door.

After he'd passed the small child off to a female officer who had just arrived at the scene, Brass retrieved a fresh blanket and a soft toy from the trunk of his car. The officer had placed her in the front seat of the cruiser, and was in the process of talking to dispatch.

Crouching beside the open door he studied the sullen and shaking child and he gently wiped away a silent tear that slid down her face. "I have something for you." He told her tenderly and pulled his prize out from behind his back. It was policy that all police cars carried a small box of stuffed animals. He'd shuffled aside a few plushies, before finding the perfect item, a soft pink kitty. It was this he placed in her tiny dirt streaked hand. Then he draped the clean blanket over her and smiled. "Everything will be all right." He assured her.

Janine Whittaker, a pretty doe-eyed second year recruit, smiled softly at the Captain and nodded. "I called ahead to the hospital, someone from child services is going to meet me there."

"Good." He patted the little girl on the top of her head and slammed the door shut. The minute the cruiser rounded the end of the street, he pulled a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The yelling could be heard from two streets over as he let go on the officers outside.

Inside, Brass' colorful language drifted through the open doorway making the young CSI grateful that she wasn't on the receiving end of his tirade. She tuned it out as best she could, preferring, instead, to focus on her processing.

Sara was in the middle of swabbing a darkened smudge on the half wall beside the entrance when she heard her muffled name emanate from somewhere beyond the kitchen door.

"Yeah?" She replied distractedly.

The smear resembled a handprint. She held her own hand over it and moved it around trying to match the motion that had made the pattern.

His voice seemed closer now and she looked up to catch sight of him just on the other side of the pass through. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Sure… fine…" She pulled her eyes away from him and swallowed hard. "Jim found a child in one of the rooms."

His gaze was unnerving. It was like he was trying to climb inside her head, so she grabbed her camera and snapped a second photo of the print, this time from different angle.

"Is she alright?"

"I doubt it, living here…" She replied motioning to space around her. "But she's alive."

He eyed her for a moment longer before motioning to the front window. "Is David here yet?"

Looking out the window, she shook her head.

Brass stood on the front lawn his broad arms flailing angrily about. An extra squad car was on the scene, but other than that, and the vehicles they had arrived in, the street was pretty empty.

He chewed his lip for a moment and then turned back into the kitchen. "I'm going to look around." He told her the shuffle of his feet growing distant.

Sara perused the room. She couldn't document the couch until the body was gone, and it seemed like it would be a bit of a wait. She'd taken the samples from every conceivable surface, and followed them up with photos.

Sucking in a sharp breath she grabbed the camera and a few supplies from her kit, then headed towards the kitchen and what looked like fresh blood spatter on the door. Snapping a few photos she carefully placed the camera on the floor, and reached into her pocket. She'd just broken out a fresh swab when a loud crash, followed by a pained yelp resonated from behind the wall. The glorified Q-tip slipped carelessly from her hand, and landed forgotten at her feet.

"Are you alright?" She burst into the room in time to see a man step from a broom closet with a gun in his hand. He swung towards her. In an instant everything deteriorated.

There was a flash from the gun's muzzle and a scream from across the room. Her own name was still ringing in her ears when something hit her with the might of a Mack truck.

The strength of the blast immediately forced the air out of her lungs with a powerful whoosh, and she found her equilibrium suddenly askew. A liquid warmth splashed across her face; her mind absently registering that it was her partner's blood.

A second later her head connected with something solid and suddenly Sara Sidle's world went black.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Diclaimer:** See chapter one

I wouldlike to thank you all for your kind reviews you are my buoy in a sea of words.

Also a special thanks to my betasBellabrew and Mrosefor all of the hard work and time they have put in deciphering the ramblings that keep falling out of my head. You are the best!

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**Chapter 3**

_Make it go away or make it better_

'_cuz I would do either one for you…_

_(Dark Dear Heart – Holly Cole)_

_**Desert Palms Hospital**_

_**Aug 22, 2006**_

**_2am_**

Pain would be too inaccurate description. In truth, if asked, Sara couldn't even have come close to describing the cruel assault that was taking place at the very core of her tightly bundled nerve endings.

As she regained consciousness, it was with the belief that someone had surely ripped her head off and was in the process of performing "Lord of the Dance", on it while wearing steel toed construction boots. How she found herself in this particular position was still a little murky, but for a fleeting moment she wondered if it might have something to do with a frenetic night out, a wicked hangover and far too many whiskey sours.

Cruelly, that thought rapidly dissipated, only to be replaced by a series of flashes depicting her last moments of consciousness; horrified blue - eyes a plea for absolution held in them, the bitter smell of sweat and fear battering the fragile membranes of her nose, and the heat of his blood as it painted her face like some horrific piece of modern art. Sara's heart leapt as she relived the gunman's shot. In a panic, she stiffened and let out a muffled scream, her hands instinctively grabbing for purchase. But there was nothing to connect with except, oddly enough, some wires.

"She's trying to pull out her line." A strange voice shrieked from somewhere beyond her tightly fused eyelids.

Immediately, strong hands wrapped around her and she felt herself being pressed back into the softness beneath her.

"You're okay, Sara honey…" A distinctive southern drawl stirred the feeling of familiarity in the pit of her stomach and eased her into a confused state of calm.

A snapshot of Nick Stokes face popped into her head from somewhere in her subconscious. Desperately, she tried to open her eyes to confirm what her intuition already knew, but her eyelids refused to cooperate.

Her tongue felt like a wad of soggy cotton, making it more than a little difficult to speak. Thus, her first attempt came out as something between a choke and a moan.

There wasn't a second attempt, as a sinking feeling overcame her and began tugging her back down into a hazy slumber. In the distance, and only moments before she was pulled completely under, she heard the hushed whisper of Catherine's voice.

"You need to get over here now!" Her voice cracked as a sob broke the surface. "I can't be the one to tell her he's gone."

_**Desert Palms Hospital**_

_**Aug 22, 2006**_

**_8am_**

"I can't be the one to tell her he's gone." The words were running through her head like a skipping record. It had been Catherine's voice fraught with anger and sadness. The mantra, itself, shoved her little by little back to an unwelcome reality. He was gone. There was no need to ask who. The vision of the gunfire had been looping through her brain like a nightmare with no foreseeable ending. In her mind's eye, she could still see the flash of gunfire; feel the bullet as it seared its mark into her delicate flesh; and hear the deep cry of her name as her world imploded.

She hurt all over. Inside her head, a solid nagging ache toyed with her ability to think clearly, and was occasionally punctuated by sharp insidious pain that immediately wiped all conscious thought from her mind. Secondary to this, was a large spot just below her rib cage that felt like it was ablaze. It was, no doubt, the place where the bullet had hit its mark. But neither of these could hold a candle to the nastiest pain of all, the one that had no medical solution; the one that sat at the epicenter of a whole host of emotions; not the least of which was guilt, anger and surprisingly relief.

A tear slipped from beneath her lashes and traveled a lazy path down her cheek. Immediately, there was a warm palm on her face, its fingers gently wiping away, any trace of its existence.

"Hey…."

The voice was soft and male, and tempered with both horror and dread.

"Sara… Are you awake?"

A heat blossomed in the pit of her stomach. It was bizarre that despite spending a quarter of a year with another man, Gil Grissom could still draw such a disturbing and heart rendering response.

Sara Sidle didn't want to be awake. She wanted to allow herself to be pulled back down into the protective depths of the receding darkness. That way she wouldn't have to face anyone's looks of pity and concern. Or have to bear any explanations or recriminations. Though, she knew that her true undoing would be found in the indigo eyes of the man standing at her bedside; the stroke of his strong hands trying to ease her pain with the gentlest of caresses. She needed more time to prepare for the eventuality of his response.

But reality was a bitch. A fact she'd learned at a very young age, when the fairytale books of princesses and heroes, gave way to the biting actuality of domestic violence, and substance abuse.

His touch grew more insistent, his fingers moving to her hairline, and then tracing an intense path down to her chin. He waited, staring at her keenly, his heart finally daring to beat again after having to face the sickening truth that he'd almost lost her for good this time.

Sara nodded, as much as her head would allow, and forced herself to look at him. "I already know…" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper and she began to cry openly, her hands unsteadily rushing to her face.

Grissom's heart ached. He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, repeatedly until her hand came up and covered his mouth. These were words she couldn't bear to hear from anyone, least of all him. He didn't understand, and if it was at all possible she hoped he never would. Then when his voice subsided, she simply cried until she couldn't anymore and exhaustion claimed her once again.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate thatyou take so much time and effortto read and edit my story.

Final note: This is set prior to GSR becomingcanonI probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4**

_Hey now all you killers, put your lights on_

_Hey now all you children, leave your lights on_

_(Everlast – Whitey Ford sings the blues)_

_**Desert Palms Hospital **_

_**Aug 22, 2006**_

**_3:30 pm_**

Sara awoke for the third time acutely aware of the fact that there was someone pressed up against her. His strong firm hand rested protectively across her stomach and she could feel his warm breath on the side of her face. For a moment she wondered if it was all just a dream, maybe a terrifying nightmare had pulled her in and had yet to release her. Perhaps, she and Luke were still curled on the couch at his place after a morning of fervent sex. Maybe, the last three days had never happened. She lay there for a moment allowing herself to contemplate this.

But this man felt different. His proportions were all wrong. Luke was tall, lean and extremely muscular. Fitness was one ofhis passions. He loved to work out, hike and swim... He had always done everything with an untiring amount of energy - especially in bed.

The man beside her had never been caught up in the physical. Not, that he wasn't in good shape, or that he was neglectful of his appearance, just that it had never been his focus. He'd always invested himself in more academic and intellectual pursuits. He had a gentleness and compassion about him that Luke Denton had never possessed. They were, in all honesty, as different as two people could get.

Luke was the epitome of a "go-for-it" type. He did what he wanted, said how he felt, and couldn't give a damn if anyone disagreed. Outspoken and forthright, he was what most people would describe as being a typical man's man. He'd make a decision and chase it with the commitment of a priest, and the passion of a besotted lover; his confidence never wavering, and his emotions held high for all to see. He was friendly and popular and could play the Pied Piper to a T.

Grissom, on the other hand had a tendency to be decisive and confident only on the job, or when in teacher mode, since this was the arena where he knew few could compete with him on any level. Outside of work, where his private life was concerned he was essentially shy, guarded, and reticent when it came to his heart and soul. He did have a brilliant sense of humor, but it had been a while since Sara had been privy to it, or any emotion other than those considered a necessary part of his work demeanor. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of the man she had fallen for, so long ago, back in San Francisco, but those times were few and far between. She knew that his fear led him to this and that it was his way of keeping her at arms length. It was a tactic which over the past few years had been very successful. Perhaps too successful, this is why she'd finally sought solace in the arms of another.

Sara had been drifting emotionally when Luke Denton first arrived in Las Vegas. Already a professor in high standing at both UCLA and USC, he had made an almost unheard of decision three years earlier and had left the life of academia behind. He'd chosen to make a career change; one that was still science related, but infinitely more challenging than what he'd been doing in the classroom. Incredibly skilled he'd shot from a CSI level one to assistant supervisor in such an incredibly short time.

That was how he'd ended up in Vegas on an exchange program from the LAPD. Back home he was in line for a supervisory position and was sent by his department to expand his knowledge base by shadowing the Las Vegas CSIs for the last 7 months, as a training exercise.

Typical of Ecklie, he did what he thought was best for the lab by having their guest float between shifts, the extra help coming in handy wherever it was needed most. Though, Luke was considered "on call" for all three shifts, the sheer number of crimes, to available CSIs dictated that he usually ended up filling in on either swing or graveyard. The Assistant Director, never one to do anything more than was absolutely necessary, had assigned their guest to report directly to Grissom, thus adding to the graveyard supervisor's already overwhelming pile of paperwork. It was a subtle, yet effective way of making life as difficult as possible for the enigmatic entomologist.

The Lab had been told about the trainee a week before he was due to join them, but little was revealed other than where he was coming from and how long he would be staying. So the arrival of the visiting CSI hadn't been a surprise, to Sara. However, the shock of seeing his face again for the first time in 16 years had knocked the ground right out from under her. Luke had been a tenured physics professor her last year at Harvard and during that time they'd had a brief and intensely dynamic relationship.

Over time he hadn't changed much. He was still gorgeous; his dark hair and icy blue eyes had reduced most of the girls on campus to giggling piles of jelly. 16 years had only increased his attractiveness and he'd had the same affect at the lab, causing more than a little tension between him and the other overly territorial males there. All he had to do was smile and women literally melted at his feet.

For the first two months he had flirted his way through the department, paying special attention to the women who had showed him the most interest. His sexual appetite was nothing if not ravenous. Sara had kept it casual; avoiding him at all cost, and was grateful for the days that he had been called into swing. Extricating herself from their prior relationship had been difficult and their past was a history she didn't want to repeat. For more than sixty days she'd managed to heed her own advice until a brutal child rape case was her undoing.

From that point on there had been no turning back… Memories flooded her thoughts. Sara's breath caught as tears began to well up again, her hand immediately coming up to muffle her uncontrollable sobs.

Gil Grissom jumped, the movement of her hand startling him out of an exhausted slumber. His left arm was fully asleep and wedged under a head full of soft brown hair, his right rose and fell in time with Sara's hitched breathing.

He stared at her; a swarm of regrets shifting through him. This whole situation was entirely his fault, and from this point on any pain she felt could be directly traced back to him. He was at a loss for a solution, though if it had been as easy as offering himself up for crucifixion, he would have in a heart beat to save her any further agony.

Vacating the warm spot on her stomach, Grissom brought his free hand up to her face; it was hot and supple to the touch. Resting his palm on her cheek he used his thumb to brush aside her tears and then turned her towards him. Her eyes, tearful and bloodshot said it all.

"How long have I been out?" Her voice was a veritable whisper, she was unsure of how she had ended up curled up next to her boss, but emotionally she was unwilling question it.

He glanced up at the wall clock. "A little under 24 hours… You have a serious concussion."

Accepting, she gave a slight nod.

"You whacked your head." His fingers moved around to the back of her skull. There was a medium sized bandage at the base of her neck, covering patchwork of blue stitches. He fingered it slightly. "And a bullet grazed your ribs." He said waveringly. "You're very lucky…" He swallowed hard; not wanting to dwell on what would have happened had the gunman been a little more accurate.

Her dark eyes searched his face. Something in them told him that she was at war with herself over whether or not she wanted to know the details of her lover's death.

"Sara I -" He started but never got the opportunity finish, as Ecklie burst into the room, followed by the floor doctor and a young nurse.

"Gil…" The assistant director stopped, a shocked silence suspended in mid-air.

A low moan escaped Grissom, and he slowly climbed off the hospital bed and straightened out his crumpled clothes. "What is it?"

No longer speechless, Ecklie pointed to the hallway, "Clearly, we need to talk." Tension edged his words, forewarning of the encounter to come.

He started the minute Grissom stepped out into the hallway. "What do you think you are doing?" He spat out, his hand indicating the hospital room. "I know you have the hots for her, but this is pretty quick, Luke Denton's side of the bed isn't even cold yet..."

With only a few hours of hospital interrupted sleep, and fraught with the fear and knowledge that he could have lost the young woman in the other room, Grissom's self-control was at an exhausted all time low and the Assistant Director's words proved too much of a provocation. A spike of anger shot through him and within seconds he had his colleague pinned up against the wall. "I won't even dignify that with an answer… Sara is my CSI; she is both my responsibility and a friend…"

"Whoa…. Whoa…" Jim Brass spotted the trouble the minute he stepped off the elevator. He made a crazy dash for the two men and slid himself in between them, forcing Grissom to let go of Conrad Ecklie. He looked from one to another. "You two need to learn to play nice." He nodded in the direction of the nursing station and the five pairs of eyes gawking at them. "No need to air your dirty laundry in public."

Ignoring the onlookers, Grissom turned his anger on Homicide Detective. "What the hell happened out there, Jim? I've lost one CSI, and Sara could have been killed. Have you caught the guy yet?"

Ecklie interceded, jabbing a finger into the other man's chest. "He won't be talking to you about the case. It's under my purview not yours."

"Then what are you doing here. The shooter is out there somewhere..." Grissom demanded turning to watch as a doctor and nurse entered Sara's room.

"But some of my evidence is in there." He threw a thumb towards the door. "And whether you like it or not; _your_ CSI Sidle is the primary witness in a fatal shooting. She has some questions to answer." Ecklie made his way to the door, and entered.

Grissom wheeled on his friend. "What happened at that house?"

Jim Brass shook his head. "He's right. You are way too emotionally involved. I can't discuss this with you."

"I'm the one who has to call Luke Denton's family and tell them the news. If he screws this up and the killer gets away…"

"Gil… I want to catch the guy, too." He placed a comforting hand on Grissom's shoulder. "You'll just have to trust me on this one. In the meantime – please try not to commit professional suicide."

Grissom grunted as the two of them went back into the room together.

The doctor was making his way across the floor, Sara's hospital chart clenched in one meaty fist. He was short, fat and balding, and he huffed heavily with each step. "You're beginning to heal and you should be a little more comfortable now – with the IV and that catheter out." He announced, as the nurse pulled back the curtain exposing the young CSI to the three men.

Conscious of their eyes on her, she shakily shoved the blankets down to cover her exposed legs and looked warily at the three of them, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "I can go home now, right?" She inquired, her eyes shifting to the rotund physician.

The name on his tag said Dr. Franke… abstractly, her hazy mind filled in the _'nstien'_ on its own.

"Just give me a moment." He held up one sausage like finger. "Hmmm… Nurse Korman, I can't seem to find the SA sheet."

"What?" The word escaped Sara's mouth in the form of a gasp. Horrified, she turned her eyes to the men standing nearby.

Mistaking the look of horror on her face for one of accusation, Brass shook his head. "No way, Sara..." He looked reassuringly, at the young CSI. "I heard the shots and no more than 30 seconds passed before I was in there. No one laid a finger on you, I swear." Confusion shifted to anger. "You must have the wrong patient."

The doctor held up the file and waved it in their direction. "Sara Sidle, shooting victim presented with head trauma. There is no rape sheet in place, but from the damage I just noticed while removing your catheter. I am certain you have been raped."

Gil Grissom blanched, while Ecklie shifted uncomfortably at the change of topic.

"No…" She shook her head.

"The injuries are fresh. Within the last 48 hours. Maybe you went out to a bar recently? Drank too much? Woke up no recollection of the evening out?"

"No… I work graveyard. After shift I usually go… go back to my bo… to Luke's place, depending on our schedules." Sara's hands trembled in her lap. A moment later, a rosy flush crept across her face, and her hands swept up to cover it. "Look, I - we had intercourse yesterday before being called into work." She said quietly. Her mind relived the sensation of her back pressed painfully up against the kitchen counter, and the rupturing pain as he entered her.

The doctor shook his head, adamantly. "It is not possible that the injuries you have are from a single act of intercourse. There is a lot of bruising and tearing present Ms Sidle. This does not occur with normal sexual relations." He looked at the nurse and nodded. "We should run a rape kit, if none has been done."

Normal… Now that was an interesting word. Sara felt like there was a lead ball sitting in the pit of her stomach. "We'd had sex two times yesterday." She admitted, embarrassment edging her voice. "That could account for the bruising and the tearing."

The doctor shook his head in disagreement. "But not the location of it tearing… Ms. Sidle… " He told her gently, as he took on the tone of teacher. "Indications of normal intercourse are different from those of a rape, for example…" He began his explanation, but was immediately cut off.

"Save it Doc. I've given the same speech dozens of times." She looked at the three men standing beside her; each of them sported a different emotion, and they ran the gamut. From Ecklie's sneer bordering on disgust, to Brass' concern and self doubt, to Grissom's horror.

"Look, not that my sex life is anyone's business…" She closed her eyes – hoping that it would make her next words easier to say. "But my partner is… was… well… often forceful and very rarely conventional as a lover. Okay?"

Humiliated and feeling something like a specimen in a locked a jar, she pulled her legs up as close to her chest as the pain in her side would allow, and wrapped her arms around her knees. Dropping her head onto her knees she shook it. "No more…" She said into the blanket. "No rape kit, no questions. I want to go home." Uncurling herself she shakily slid to the side of the bed and tentatively stepped off onto the cool cement floor.

It hurt to walk. Her body had clearly gotten used to being horizontal over the last day, and it liked it. An immediate drop in blood pressure caused an overwhelming wooziness, and Sara was forced to grab onto the bed for support. The nurse grasped her by the arms in an attempt to keep her upright, and then tried to ease her back onto the mattress, but she would have none of it. Shaking off the woman, she slowly headed for the small locker in the room.

"You really should be in bed for at least another 24 hours. Ms. Sidle. You have a nasty concussion; your brain needs a rest." The doctor stepped in front of her just as she reached the locker. "I can't approve of your going home."

Rubbing her head to try and assuage a growing headache, Sara leveled the doctor with a resolute look. He resembled a life size weeble and clearly had no sense of patient privilege to top it all off. "See that's just it. I don't need your approval," She reached around the man and took hold of the handle. "But your objection is duly noted."

With that she pulled the door open forcing the man to step out of the way or be hit with it. But the cubicle was empty. Slamming the door shut she rested her forehead against it, the cool metal momentarily assuaging the steady throbbing in it. A soft moan escaped her mouth. "My stuff is in evidence…" It was really more of a statement than a question.

Her body became rigid, as warm arms suddenly found their way around her. "Come on Sara..." She relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice.

It was Grissom.

"Let's go. You need to lie down." He tried to direct her back towards the bed, but she turned away.

"I'm going home, Grissom. If you want to help me out, please get me some clothes to wear, otherwise I'll walk out of here in what I have on." She fixed him with a pained stare.

He was prepared to argue and determined to refuse, but the look on her face brought him to his knees emotionally. Resigned, he sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. "Sit down. I'll see if I have anything in the truck..." He knew he had overalls and fresh socks, but beyond that he wasn't sure. He threw a glance at the two men standing behind him, not wanting to leave her alone with them, but not sure what else to do, "Ecklie and Brass have some questions for you. But that is only if you feel like answering them."

Sara flicked her eyes towards the two men, her arms unconsciously wrapping around her waist. The hospital gown she was wearing was huge, so large in fact that she could easily drape it around herself twice. But it was also incredibly short and flimsy, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. "I'm showering first..." She needed to feel on an even ground with the two men. Being dressed and clean would make her feel more in control, more able to face the upcoming inquiries.

The nurse handed her a small soap sample and some shampoo as she entered the bathroom. "Try not to get the bandages too wet Mrs. Sidle, they're fairly waterproof but may start to lift."

As the door slammed shut behind her, Ecklie and the Captain exchanged exasperated glances.

Seizing his files, the doctor nodded to the nurse and the two of them left the room, closely followed by Gil Grissom.

"Dr. Franke…" He grasped the man's arm as he headed down the hall.

The doctor stopped and turned. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Just how forceful would intercourse have to be to replicate what you saw?"

Dr. Franke stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "I honestly don't know, sir. But I can tell you that if I had been on duty when your friend came in, I would have run a kit on her immediately."

Vitriol rose in Grissom's throat, and he nodded numbly.

The doctor took a few steps down the hallway and then turned once again. "She shouldn't be alone for the next 48 hours."

"Thanks, I'll take care of it…" Dazed, he blinked back the slew of emotions coursing through him, and forced himself to focus on the immediate concerns. Sara needed clothes.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o)

**Special** thanks to my betas **Bellabrew** and **Mrose**. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter 5**

_This is not the way you should see me_

_This is not the face I recognize._

_(Dark Dear Heart – Holly Cole)_

_**Desert Palms Hospital**_

_**Aug 22, 2006**_

**_4:45 pm_**

The cool water felt good against her bare skin. It revived her and soothed her making the ache in her skull subside a little. Closing her eyes, Sara leaned against the shower stall wall trying to blank out the turmoil of thoughts colliding in her brain. A frighteningly dark kaleidoscope of emotions matched the chaos skipping across the surface of her mind; guilt, hurt, anger, loss all rolled through her, each of them settling in snuggly with the overwhelming sense dread and pain that had already taken up permanent residence in her chest. She forced herself to relax. She would think about it all later, when she was alone.

Shaking fingers inspected the dressing under her ribs. Looking down she noted that it was see through, and covered an angry red gash that had been stitched with blue plastic sutures. Her hand instinctively went to the bandage at the back of her head and she trailed her fingers over it lightly. It was made of the same material and the area under it was raw and extremely tender, much like the invisible scars that had littered her psyche over the years. They had healed over time and with each new triumph a fresh layer of connective tissue had been laid down - reinforcing that she had put it all behind her. But as always happened, the coasting she'd been doing for the last decade had been the calm, before the storm, and this newest trauma had chafed away most of the emotional healing she'd managed, and added to it fresh layer of open wounds.

Wincing she flailed for the packet of shampoo that she'd been given, and emptied it onto her hair, carefully avoiding the bandage.

She felt stripped bare. Having her sex life exposed for her colleagues' discussion was the last thing she had wanted or expected. Having to explain it all would be mortifying and she had no doubt it would come up at some point. Be it a fatherly inquiry from Jim Brass, a gossip trolling expedition conducted by Conrad Ecklie, or a series of shyly uttered questions, tempered with distant concern and proffered up by one Gilbert Grissom; she would definitely be hearing about it again. Her breath hitched slightly as she realized that this would not only be the juicy fodder for the office rumor mill, but it would also be part of her permanent record…

Moaning Sara rinsed her hair and quickly soaped herself off. Her energy was starting to ebb, and her head was beginning to spin again. There were too many thoughts and not enough strength to keep her afloat, so she cut her shower short. The relief she had found in the pounding water was gone under the pressure of one undeniable truth; her very private life was not her own anymore.

Grabbing the thin rough hospital towel she angrily scraped it across her body until she was only damp and then wrapped herself in the flimsy material. There was no way she could remain standing much longer and there was nowhere to sit except the toilet, so she closed the seat, and dropped onto it exhaustedly; mentally willing Grissom to hurry. She wasn't sure how much longer she couldkeep the unshed tears at bay, and maintain the already tenuous emotional control she'd garnered.

* * *

Grissom rifled through his trunk. He knew he had a change of clothes somewhere. The last time he'd seen them they were in his black bag, but that appeared to be missing. He'd restocked it with fresh clothing the morning they'd been stuck in a brutal down pour a week earlier. He was sure he'd returned it to the car.

Shifting aside his kits he dug around frantically, he needed to find something that would be suitable. He could tell by the look on her face, as he'd left, that she was incredibly vulnerable. This was a feeling that would be intensified by the reality of having to face Ecklie still clad in the insubstantial piece of cloth that passed for hospital wear, instead of the protective armor of real clothing. He suddenly spotted it partially concealed under the seat. With a sigh of relief he pulled it out, and rummaged through it.

His search turned up a fresh pair of socks and a clean white t-shirt. He fished out a large pair of boxers and contemplated them a moment before returning them to his bag. They were far too large for her slender body. He would check the gift shop they were bound to have something that would work better The only actual clothing he hadwhich could be considered suitable - and would give her the coverage she needed -was one of the standard issue blue forensics jumpsuits. It was his size and obviously way too big, but it was all he had, so he tucked it under his arm and locked up.

* * *

The gift shop was run by the _Desert Palms Ladies Auxiliary_, most of them being in their mid to late sixties. The little blue haired woman behind the counter smirked when Grissom entered, his eyes searching the back of the store.

"Can I help you, young man?" She offered moving out from behind the counter.

Grissom looked a little like a deer caught in headlights, as the elderly woman approached. It had been a very long time since he had actually shopped for something intimate for a woman, and the fact that it was this particular woman - a woman he still harbored unresolved feelings for - made it all that much more disconcerting. The last time he had even come close to purchasing something personal for someone of the opposite sex, who wasn't his mother, was when he bought a scarf for Catherine for her 45th birthday. It had taken a week to decide what to get her, and the help of a very knowledgeable sales lady to pick out the pattern for him. Underwear was well beyond his knowledge base.

"Uh… underwear… women's…" He looked sheepishly around the shop. "And shoes..." he added.

"Oh, sorry son, we don't carry shoes. It's possible we have some undergarments." She pointed to an area at the back of the store that held robes and baby clothes. "We may not have a large selection, that's the kind of stuff we don't sell much of, so we only restock as needed."

Grissom nodded and followed the direction she'd indicated, hoping that she wasn't going to follow him. She did though and even went so far as to ask what size he was looking for.

He stopped a moment in front of the robes and looked back at her confused. "I… ah… well she's tall, but very thin." He searched the other side of the shop window, and then quickly pointed to a woman walking by. "She's about her size."

The old woman nodded her head. "Probably a small…" She reached around him and picked up a wicker basket off the floor. "Let's see…" She flipped through several packages. "Large, large, extra large… Here we go." She held up the only other package in the basket. "Small…" They were red satin and lace. His mind flashed back to another time not long ago when a certain blonde detective, in the guise of an investigation, had worn much the same thing under a jumpsuit similar to the onewedged under his arm. She'd made no bones about it either. It had been a tool to her, a method ofdrawing attention to her femininity. I was atechnique he'd never seen Sara use, even on him.

Grissom glanced at the undergarments and paled; at the same time wondering what she would think when she first saw them. Anxiously, he eyed the other packages, and then the one the lady was holding up. "You don't have anymore of those?" He pointed to the white cotton ones.

"No son. You're lucky we even have these. The design is not something we normally stock. They came in with the last shipment by accident and our distributor told us to keep them since it would cost more to return than they're worth. So I guess this is your lucky day. The next size up, which we don't have, will be too big. At least these are the right size." She shrugged and held out the package to him.

"Right…" He took the package and hid them under his arm with the jumper. "No shoes. How about slippers…?" He reached over and pulled a pair of ballet style slip-ons. They were an extra large, but would have to do. He'd wasted enough time. He needed to get back before Ecklie and Brass started in on the questioning. He had yet to hear first hand what had happened and the investigator in him wanted details, while the man in him wanted answers and atonement.

* * *

The spinning in Sara's head was getting progressively worse. Topped off by the pounding, she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to remain upright. She hadn't been sitting too long, but clearly her pain medication was beginning to wear off.

Closing her eyes she leaned her head back against he ceramic covered wall and waited; hoping the room would stop its rotation. A moment later she heard a tentative knock followed by her name.

Gripping the sink for support she threw a glance in the mirror as she passed by. To her dismay her damp hair had taken on its usual post shower state and was framing her face in a mass of shoulder length ringlets Moaning she opened the door a crack and shoved her arm out. Seconds later she pulled it back in with a plastic bag in her grasp.

It was slow moving, as her balance was more than a little compromised. Reaching into the bag she removed the first thing he hand came in contact with, and had to stifle a gasp as she pulled out the panties. Red satin trimmed in lace was certainly not what she had been expecting. It was disturbing and funny all at the same time.

Dropping the package on the floor she slid the underwear up her thin legs, and stared down on at the garment. Confusion still etched her features as she followed up with the socks, shirt, and jumper. There was no bra, but he had managed to come up with some slippers. They were a bit too large so she would save them until she was about to leave. All she needed was to trip over them and whack her head again.

When the door opened, the three men were standing silently in the middle of the room, where she had left them. They appeared to be simply waiting. All eyes fell on her as she made her way over to the closest chair and sat, well aware of the judgment and appraisal held within their stares. Doing her best to hide her rapidly deteriorating condition, she leveled each of them with a steady gaze and nodded. "Okay… what do you want to know?"

Ecklie stepped forward and flipped open his pad. "From the beginning; after you arrived at the house, what happened?"

Sara closed her eyes. "We entered the home."

"We, who…?"

"Jim, Luke, and I…" Her voice hitched at the mention of his name and she fought to keep it under control. She would not give Ecklie the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"Then what…?"

"We split up. Jim and Luke went into the kitchen to process the female and I took the male in the living room."

"Was the house cleared?"

Sara shook her head no. "It was supposed to be. The officers first on the scene said it had been, but I told Brass the whole situation didn't feel right."

"In what way…?" Ecklie shifted from one foot to another and then leaned in a little.

"They said they thought it was a domestic, maybe a murder suicide, but it felt all wrong."

"You keep saying, feel and felt, but feelings have no placeat a scene,CSI Sidle, be more specific."

Sucking in a deep breath she let out a short huff. "Okay, umm. The bullet wound was large, not the size of a gun that someone would have killed himself with. It looked to be a shotgun blast. You would need extra long arms for that, or really dexterous feet." She shook her head remembering back. "No." She muttered thoughtfully. "The guy was wearing slippers. Ah then there was the blood spatter and spray radius." Sara rubbed her eyes willing the pain behind them to go away. "You have the photos. It looked like it had come from almost a frontal angle, not from the side, standard for a suicide. And there was no weapon. It would have been pretty hard for him to hide it after he used it."

"You searched for the weapon?"

"Yes, unless it was under the body, which I couldn't confirm. It was not in the room." Shaking slightly, she ran a slim finger through her hair and tucked a wild curl behind one ear.

Ecklie nodded. "What happened next?"

"I found a toy and some underwear; told Brass I thought there might be a child in the house. He went and checked."

"And there was, right?" Turning Ecklie confirmed this with the captain.

"Yeah, in one of the bedroom closets, I cleared all of the rooms brought the little girl out front, and the next thing I hear is shots being fired."

Sara's world was beginning to spin rapidly; swallowing hard she closed her eyes and sunk a little further into the chair as her skin took on a ghostly hue.

Though she tried to hide it Grissom noticed the change in her appearance almost instantly. "Hey…" He moved beside her and crouched trying to get a good look at her face. He had no idea how it felt for her to have lost a lover in such a horrific way, he'd never been that unfortunate. But if the strumming ache in his own chest - caused by simply having to watching her suffer - was any indication, he could only imagine what it had to be like for her. All he needed was one indication that she couldn't go on, that she wanted him to intervene, and he would call an end to the interrogation immediately, but she glanced away and simply sucked in a deep breath.

Placing his hand on her back he massaged it lightly, as his eyes shifted from Brass to Ecklie. "You can continue this tomorrow." He told them, the edge in his voice leaving no room for argument. His words softened, as he gazed down at her. "And you need to go back to bed." He slipped an arm around her, trying to help her up, but she resisted.

Her eyes shifted in his direction without really looking at him. "I'm going home, and I want to finish this…" Grim faced she looked up at Ecklie. "Please, let's just hurry."

"It's your story. What happened next?"

Shaking off the vertigo, she clutched the arms of the chair and continued. "I was checking out a bloody handprint. Luke called me from the kitchen. He wanted to know if the coroner had arrived yet. He hadn't. Luke said that he was going to check the rest of the kitchen out. He was done processing until the body was gone. I went to the kitchen door, it looked like there was another bloody smear andI was going to process it. I heard a crash. I ran in to see if he was okay." Sara stopped and closed her eyes as a wave of nausea crashed over her.

"Go on…" Ecklie prompted.

"Everything flew from that point on. When I ran into the room, I saw a guy with a gun, andhe spun on me. I saw a flash. Ohhhhh God…" Sara let out a soft moan and bolted for the bathroom as bile forced its way up through her esophagus.

The door slammed shut and stark retching could be heard, followed by the hiccup of dry heaves

"She should not be going home." Dr. Franke announced as he entered the room and took in the sounds radiating from the toilet. "Nurse Korman…" He turned to the woman who had followed him in. "Why don't you see if Ms. Sidle needs a hand."

Exasperated Grissom shook his head. "She won't stay."

"Yeah, she's made that pretty clear." He held out a form for Grissom. "Discharge instructions. As I told you before, she should not be alone for the next 48 hours, and she needs to be awakened every 2 hours for the next 24." He passed him another smaller sheet. "A prescription for pain, she can have 2 every four hours. Bed rest is what she really needs." With that he turned and left the room.

* * *

Sara stared at the blue foam head in wonderment, and with quaking hands spread the mint toothpaste over top of it.

Not much had come up, but what had, had left a brutal taste in her mouth. "Thanks…" She mumbled around the brush and waved the nurse out of the bathroom. The dizziness had lifted momentarily, so she took advantage of it and made quick work of the clean up.

She wasn't sure how much more she could take without a total collapse, so she pushed herself to exit the relative safety of the bathroom - but this time did not take a seat.

Throwing her hands up at her sides she just shook her head and addressed Ecklie. "That's all I remember."

He cast a glance at Grissom, who shook his head as if to say no more questions, but he ignored him. "Just a couple more things..."

"Sure."

"Did Luke have his weapon on him?"

She searched her memory. "Ah… I don't recall. I mean he always carried it, so I assume he did, but do I actually remember seeing it? No."

"But you were with him before being called in. You don't remember seeing him holster up." Ecklie pressed her.

"No. I was with him earlier that day. I left to go back to my place uh, at around 10:30. I got the call at home around 6."

"You had yours on you." It was a statement.

"Yes. Did the shooter get it?"

"No it was still in your holster when Brass found you."

Breathing a sigh of relief she nodded. "Good." She looked at the two men. "Did he get Luke's?"

"It looks that way. Did he have a non-police issue gun as well? For that matter, do you?"

"Yes and yes." Sara replied reaching for the chair again. The vertigo was back with a vengeance.

"Did you have yours on you?"

"No."

"Where is it?"

"Luke has a safe. It should be in there."

"It's your responsibility, why didn't you take it with you?"

"I left in a hurry." Sara swallowed hard. "Aside from which, I usually only carry one when I'm on duty." She looked from one man to the other and rolled her head on her shoulders. This caused a spike of pain to run up the back of her scalp, one trembling hand immediately went to the offending spot.

Exhaustion etched her face and she looked like she was going to heave again. "That's enough." Grissom placed his hand on her elbow. "You can talk to her tomorrow."

"Ms. Sidle." The nurse who had been standing off to the side watching quietly passed her a small paper cup. "Pain meds..."

"Oh thank you…" A small smile of relief crept across Sara Sidle's features, and then she dry swallowed them, waving away the cup of water the woman held out to her.

"There's a wheelchair just outside." Nurse Korman indicated the hallway.

Sara was about to argue she didn't need one, when her knees went weak. If Grissom hadn't had a hold of her she would have ended up face down on the hospital floor.

Sliding his hand around her waist he took most of her weight on himself, and led her towards the door. "We'll see you gentleman later."

* * *

The nurse had insisted on staying with her until Grissom had pulled the truck up in front of the sliding doors.

Adamant that she was fine, despite the obvious, Sara walked to the vehicle by herself climbed in and curled up against the passenger side door.

It was stiflingly hot outside, which only served to add to her nausea.

From the driver's side he took in her pale features, and gunned the engine. "Sara…"

"Yeah…" She responded doing her best not to vomit, the motion of the vehicle and the heat were wreaking havoc on her stomach.

"It's been two days since I showered… I'm smelly… I need to swing by my place and grab some stuff before I take you home. Are you going to be alright?"

She gazed at him, through glazed eyes, for a moment. He looked as weary as she felt. Tension lines were etched around the corner of his mouth, where none had been before, and his beard was in dire need of a trim. Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Sure..." Seconds later she'd given into the drugs and had slipped into a foggy sort if daydream.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o)

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter 6**

_Cuz there's a monster living under my bed_

_Whispering in my ear_

_(Everlast – Whitey Ford sings the blues)_

**Gil Grissom's town house**

**Aug 22, 6pm**

Grissom made it through rush hour traffic in as short a time as physically possible. His priority was getting the young woman dozing beside him home, and into the safety and comfort of her bed. However, in as much as he needed to do that, this stop was also necessary. Much like the rest of the lab, he had been pulling a string of doubles over the last week, and his clothes were as ripe as he was. Hauling the Denali up out front of his home, he cast a troubled glance over at his frail passenger and decided not to wake her. She clearly needed the rest. Leaving the motor and air-conditioning running, he climbed out in front of the main entrance and locked the doors behind him.

Wally, the security guy, waved to him as he dashed up the front walkway and drew back the heavy metal gate.

"Howdy, Mr. Grissom," A thick southern drawl broke the relative peace of the late afternoon; there were rumors that he had fought in the civil war. It wasn't actually possible, though he looked like he could have. Wally was ancient. An amputee with a prosthetic left leg, he often made it to the gate well after the patrons and visitors had either entered or exited. But he always had a smile for everyone and he was a permanent fixture in the complex so no one complained.

"Hey, Wally…" He grimaced as he passed by and handed him a five. "I'll be back in ten minutes, please keep an eye on her for me?"

Confused Wally squinted at the car before nodding. "Pretty girl…" He indicated Sara's unmoving form. "I'll take care of her for you, sir." A mischievous glint shone in his eyes. "Hell, I might even ask her out. Think she would like an old fart like me?"

A smile split Grissom's face, for the first time in a long while.

Sara was unique, not to say that she would ever date him, but she would probably take an interest in the old man. "When she is feeling better I'll bring her by and you can ask her yourself."

"Good show…" The old man muttered as Grissom sprinted to his front door.

He was gone even less time that he had expected. Usually, he kept a bag packed for emergency trips out of town. It was this he snatched, along with two new forensics texts and a journal, and made it back to the car in exactly eight minutes.

Wally was leaning up against the Denali when Grissom exited the building. "Sleeping beauty didn't even stir…" He nodded in Sara's direction. "Is she the little girl who got shot?"

Grissom stopped for a moment. Of course the old man knew. Sara and her lover's picture had been all over the news, and in the morning paper. "Yes."

"Take care of her then." The old man patted the hood with one gnarled hand, as Grissom climbed in the car and sped away.

By proximity, he and Sara didn't live far from each other. But for the number of times they had been to the other's home, over the years, you would have thought they lived in entirely different states.

To protect his heart from her, he had made the decision long ago not to act on his feelings. Although, denying them seemed to do little, other than cause more pain. He decided that a constant ache spread out over years was much more survivable than what would happen if he gave his heart to her and she decided at some point to walk away. He was 15 years her senior, and certain that this would be the inevitable outcome to a relationship with Sara Sidle.

This had all been rationally thought out, and an easy plan of action to maintain. That is, until he first discovered that she and Luke Denton were seeing each other.

The thought of that day still burned.

_He had found out early into their relationship. It was close to two months after Luke had arrived in Las Vegas. Grissom hadn't been blind to the fact that every woman in the lab had gone google-eyed over him, but he'd taken comfort in the fact that Sara had seemed immune to his charm. Or at least he had thought that to be the case, until one evening when he had made the trip over to drop something of at the younger man's rented town home. _

_He hadn't been spying, but a flash of movement in the front window and the sound her distinctive giggle, had stopped him in his tracks. Briefly frozen to the spot he stood there unsure of what to do. Then he did the one thing, in retrospect, that he shouldn't have. He'd forced himself to look in the window, despite the litany of no's running though his head. _

_His heart still clenched at the memory; Luke Denton had Sara up in his arms, her long legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands under her t-shirt clutching at the exposed skin of her back. They were both fully clothed but the giggling had stopped and their demeanor had taken on a decidedly passionate edge. She'd stared at him for a pregnant moment before she had let him draw her into a shameless kiss. _

_Gil Grissom had stood there, with his chest on fire, until Denton had carried her into another room. He had stayed there for a long while after, his head, negotiating an uncomfortable truce with the other less rational part of himself._

_He'd made the decision then and there, not to interfere. He would let Luke have her, regardless of the consequences to his own heart. It would be better for all concerned. _

_Except that now he was beginning to doubt that choice. What the doctor had said back in the hospital room stirred up a rage that he had never thought himself capable of. And if what Sara said was true and she hadn't been raped, then Luke Denton had been brutal to her. And if she was lying and she had been raped, what did the younger man have to do with it?_

He shook the thought from his head as he pulled up to the entrance to her parking garage. "Sara…" There was no response.

Reaching out he brushed a damp curl from her face. "Sara…" He murmured softly, running his fingertips across her chin.

She jumped, startled awake by his touch. Her pulse hammering in her chest, she reached out and grabbed his wrist; only to let it go when she realized who it belonged to. Closing her eyes crossed her arms protectively across her upper body and willed her heart to slow.

"I need the code…" He indicated the closed garage door.

"Three, seven, eight, and five…" Her words were slightly slurred, and laced with fatigue. "Parking spot 9…"

Thankfully, her building wasn't a high rise. It was a rather small with only 6 floors. Pulling into her spot, he grabbed his bag, and made his way around to her door.

She already had it open when he arrived and was shakily undoing her seatbelt. Her dark eyes caught the worry in his and she grinned tightly at him. "I can handle being tired, I can even handle the pain, but this nausea is a bitch."

His demeanor lightened a little. "Are you dizzy, too?" Grissom asked gently. Brushing some of her hair out of her eyes, he then slipped his arm around her waist.

She felt thinner than he remembered.

"I feel like I'm on that carnival ride…"

He looked at her quizzically and started easing her towards the elevator.

"You know the one, where you spin around and around and stick to the wall, and then the floor drops out from underneath you?"

"Ooohh, the Rotor…" He remembered it from when he was a kid. His best and only, friend Jimmy had gone on it ten times in a row, and threw up pink foam.

"Yeah…" She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. "Well the ride operator went home, for the night, hours ago and forgot to let me off."

He halted them both in front of the elevator and pressed the button. It was on the sixth floor. "I'm sorry…" He said solemnly. "I wish I could flip the switch for you."

She leaned heavily into him as another wave of vertigo crashed over her. "Oh god…" She moaned and bent over, her hands going to her knees for support.

Grissom pounded the elevator button again, and bent down beside her.

"Do you want me to carry you?" He offered, adjusting his bag to make it easier to hold onto them both.

She visualized this for a moment, and almost laughed, before shaking her head. This only served to bring on another round of pain and dizziness. "I'll be fine."

He was about to argue the point when the lift announced its arrival with a loud ding. Gripping her tightly, he led her onto the elevator and punched the fourth floor.

That's when he remembered her keys, and the fact that her purse was still back at the lab. "Uh Sara…?"

"Mmmm…" Her eyes were shut again, and her head resting on his shoulder. When she exhaled he could feel the heat of her breath against his neck. It was disconcerting.

"I don't have your keys."

"S'okay, I had a keypad installed a couple of days ago." Her hand immediately went to her mouth as the elevator jerked to a stop.

The doors spring open to reveal a slight, rat-faced man. Her name fell from his mouth as a high-pitched whine. "Ms. Sidle." It was Cameron Elton, her nosy neighbor. He was standing in front of the doors amidst 4 yapping Pomeranians. "We haven't seen you around much lately. I see you've had a little work done to your place. Does it have anything to do with that man who tried to kick in your front door?"

"Not now, Cameron." Sara practically pushed the man out of the way, and barely avoided stepping on one of his dogs.

"I see you have brought home another gentleman caller." He yelled after Sara, as she passed him and made a mad dash for her door. "You really should be a little more careful who you let into the building, you know…"

Grissom stepped off the elevator and leveled the man with a steely gaze. "You seem to know a lot about my colleague, Mr? Cameron?"

"Mr. Elton actually, and I'm her neighbor and the president of the building maintenance association. It's my job to know."

"Well I'm a criminalist with lots of friends in the police department, and it's my job to know anyone who takes an unnatural interest in any member of my team." He jabbed a finger in the man's scrawny chest. "Does that describe you Mr. Elton?"

The man turned three shades of grey, "N-no…" and didn't even attempt to get onto the elevator as the doors suddenly closed.

"Good." Grissom turned to leave and stopped a split second later. "The man who kicked in her door, what did he look like?"

"I should help you?" Cameron asked, his hand swatting at the elevator button.

Grissom fixed him with another cold stare.

"Ahhh… Okay, well he was tall, extremely well built… umm… dark hair, blue eyes – a total hottie." The doors dinged open in front of the man, and he stepped on to the elevator dragging his dogs behind him. "Come on babies…" He cooed and then disappeared.

Sara's door was wide open as he approached, but she was nowhere in sight. The sound of gagging resonating from the bathroom betrayed her whereabouts.

Grissom stared at the entrance. It was new; along with the security pad built into the wall beside it. He could still smell the muddiness of the fresh plaster and the paint hadn't been touched up, yet. His stomach seized as he shut the door, and headed towards the washroom.

There was a niggling feeling in the pit of his belly, which had started back at the hospital. It was growing with intensity. The investigator in him was being silently harassed by it. He couldn't ignore it. But acting on it would have serious repercussions.

First things first, he decided. He had to get Sara into bed, and have a shower. He was going on forty-eight hours, with maybe three hours of restless and broken sleep. He needed to refresh himself. Clear his head.

The door to the washroom was wide open. She was curled up in the corner, head back against the white ceramic wall. One thin hand was pressed against her forehead.

He watched her. It was a guilty pleasure that he hadn't allowed himself for some time. Despite her rumpled appearance she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

There had been a lot of gossip floating around the lab when the news of Sara and Luke's relationship finally got out. Overheard whispers in the hallway about how she'd snared Denton, and what it was that had attracted him to her, had been on the tongues of most of the women, who had already tried, but failed to capture the new man. But Grissom knew what it was. He'd been a victim of it from the time they'd first met. And he'd fought it ever since.

"Sara…" His voice was soft, as he approached. "Come on… Let's get you to bed."

Her eyes fluttered, as her free hand came up and hit the lever on the toilet. "Can't you just get me a pillow and I can sleep here?"

"No…" He shook his head and smiled gently at her. "You would be in for a bit of a show. I need to take a shower, remember." He slipped his arms under hers doing his best to avoid the bandaged area.

"Right, Smelly…." Sara grasped his arms and smiled faintly as he pulled her carefully to her feet. The grin quickly died on her lips, as her breath hitched and tears began to fall.

Another knot was added the others already residing in his stomach, and he pulled her into a loose embrace. "Shhhh… It's okay…" He soothed and held her wordlessly until the stuttering of her breath had calmed. "I'm so sorry…" He told her, drawing her head away from his chest. He wrapped his hands around the sides of her face and forced her to look at him.

Her dark eyes were red rimmed and swollen and betrayed everything she was feeling. It wounded him to look at her and know there was nothing he could do to help. "I wish I could make it all go away, Sara." He told her, sincerity edging his voice.

She gazed at him numbly, a devastating exhaustion marring her features.

"Bed..." He impulsively pulled her face to his, and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. "Now… Come on."

She leaned on him heavily, allowing him to lead her into her bedroom.

Entering the room, Grissom looked around him. It was not what he had anticipated. Admittedly, he wasn't sure what it was that he'd expected, but in his mind's eye, this was not it. When he saw Sara, he envisioned her in a broad spectrum of colors. It was her nature, her personality, vibrant and multihued. Her bedroom, he assumed, would reflect this. But it didn't. It was a collection of pale hues, unlike her living room, which was an energetic purple. The room was primarily mauve and baby blue with white trim, maple furniture, and luxurious pastel fabrics. In the centre of it all there sat a large maple bed. It looked like something you would find in a quaint seaside bed and breakfast. But it was still Sara, in some strange way. It smelled like her. Clean, fresh with just a hint of flowers. This was probably not the room she spent the most time in, but it was the room where she was the most intimate in. She changed here, slept here, dreamt here.

He had stopped, so she pulled away from him and moved shakily towards the bed under her own steam. Swaying slightly, she kept her back to him as the distinct sound of metal on metal whispered across the room.

He was frozen, unsure of what to do. His impulse was to help her, but anything that involved undressing Sara was more than a little discomfiting. His mind was made up for him when she pitched forward slightly and had to grab the mattress for support.

"Oh… God..." She turned around and dropped onto the bed, her head resting in her hands. "I hate this!"

"You'll feel better soon. Just don't push yourself so much." Grissom crossed the room and crouched in front of her. "The doctor said a day or two, Sara." Reaching up he slipped the jumpsuit off of her shoulders and down to her waist. The t-shirt he'd given her hung loosely, the sleeves reaching almost to her elbows.

Leaning into the mattress, Sara heaved herself to her feet and shyly moved his hands away.

"It's okay…I can do this myself." Her breath shuddered as she pushed at the blue material. It quickly fell away and pooled around her ankles.

The t-shirt was just long enough to cover her underwear, but too short to cover anything else. Its hem sat just at the top of her slender legs and gave Grissom a perfect view of two deep purple abrasions running down her inner thighs. The skin around them was dotted with smaller but equally as violent looking bruises.

Without thinking his hand came up to touch them. "Sara." She jumped at the intimacy of his contact and unsteadily moved away.

Disentangling her feet from the remnants of the jumpsuit, she turned reached for the covers and drew them back. Grissom was immediately behind her. Moving his arms fully around her waist, he pulled her up against himself possessively; his chest pressed against her back.

Sara gripped his forearms and tugged. "Let me go." Her voice escaped as a desperate whisper. "Please."

His chin rested on her shoulder and his breath was hot on her neck "Sara, did Luke do this to you?" He needed to know.

Her fingers tugged at his, "Luke's dead." She said huskily.

Pulling away, she climbed onto the mattress, her shirt riding up. Exposing, red satin against cream colored flesh, and a criminal black and blue pattern of bruises running horizontally across her back.

His hand traced out the damage. "Sara…"

"This is not a conversation we are going to have, Grissom." She murmured wearily and pulled the blankets up around her.

Angrily, he digested all that he'd just seen, and shook his head. She was wrong. This was definitely a conversation they would be having, just not now…

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **see chapter one. 

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o)

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 7**

_Could I lay my head down here for a moment?_

_Would you sing to me like I'm your child?_

_(Holly Cole – Dark Dear Heart)_

_**Sara's apartment**_

_**August 22, 7 pm**_

The throbbing in his head matched the beat of the warm water against his naked skin as he stood in the shower. He'd been glad that the bathroom lights were on a dimmer switch, allowing him to turn them to low in an attempt to alleviate the migraine growing in his head. It had been some time since he'd had one and bright lights had a tendency to contribute to it once it started. So he'd set the room at maybe two levels above pitch black and made his way into the shower, at the same time shrugging off the heady vision of Sara, herself, using this very private space. It was neither the time or the place for such thoughts.

Two days of sweat and stress rolled off of him as hot liquid drenched him from above. He'd worked a double the day previous and had come home is such a state of exhaustion that he'd been out cold the moment he'd dropped onto the couch. At the insistence of his stomach he'd awoken to the fading daylight and had been forced make a choice between food and cleanliness. It was a battle his hunger had won, though the results might have been different had he know that he would be spending the next 24 hours running between the lab and Desert Palms.

Drawing a washcloth across his face quickly soaped himself and then turned into the water again. His muscles relaxing under the relentless pounding, but his mind found no such relief as his thoughts drifted back to the call he'd received at around 7pm the previous day.

"_Uh Gil…" The conversation with Jim Brass had started off simply and normal enough, though the faltering of his friend's voice was a dead give away that something was terribly wrong._

"_I'm in North Las Vegas. We got a call. It was an emergency rollout for swing. They were short people and called in a few from your shift." A shuttering sigh sounded through the receiver. "I uh…" He seemed at a loss. "There was a shooting. You need to get to Desert Palms ASAP."_

_His breath left him as though he had been hoofed in the stomach. "Who…?"_

"_Luke Denton's dead. He bled out in the kitchen. Sara's been shot. I'm not sure how badly. There was a lot of blood. The medics kicked me out. She was breathing when they took her out of here, though."_

_Grissom's legs went weak and he stumbled under the searing pain that had attacked chest. Only the knowledge that he had to get to the hospital to see her prevented him from collapsing entirely. From that moment on he was on autopilot. He dropped the phone in its cradle, turned off his dinner, threw on his jacket, and made it to Desert Palms in 15 minutes flat. On his way he placed a call into Catherine. _

_While explaining the situation he discouraged her from coming to the hospital. He would keep her updated, but she needed to run the shift, there was no one else. Warrick was on vacation, he'd taken two weeks off for a second honeymoon, with his new wife Tina. Nick would be too affected by the shooting to remain focused on whatever came in and Greg was still a rookie._

_Someone had to be in the lab if they were needed. Clearly, swing was stretched to the max – otherwise his people wouldn't have been called in to begin with and days would probably be working this case, amongst the many others they had been bombarded with lately. Summer was a busy time in Nevada. People seemed to respond to the brutal heat by with an increase in brutality to one another._

_He took a spot in the emergency parking lot and ran into the building; his abrupt entrance startling the nurse at emergency admitting. The smell of sickness and antiseptic assaulted him as he flashed his ID. "One of my people, Sara Sidle, was brought in."_

_It seemed to take forever, for her to find the information he was looking for. _

"_Ahhhh… Triage unit one." She pointed down the hallway to the last set of blue doors. "But you can't go in there. They're still working on her."_ _She called after his retreating form._

_He ignored the woman and bolted to the door. His hand pressed against the cool metal as he looked through the small window. The room was packed; adding to his growing terror Sara wouldn't need that many people if it was minor... She has to be all right, he told himself repeatedly, as years of regret shot through him and hemorrhaged all over his thoughts. A litany of could have, should have, would haves shouting accusations into his guilty subconscious. He could have protected her in some way. He should have told her how he really felt about her, shucked aside his fear, and done something about their tempestuous relationship. And despite the six year rollercoaster ride they been on, he would have made the emotional commitment - if given a little more time. For the first time in many years Gil Grissom prayed to a deity he had long since lost faith in. _

_Please God, let there be enough time… _

_In the middle of the room Sara Sidle was naked. They'd cut her clothes off and left them in a blood-soaked pile at their feet. She was draped in a crumpled white sheet that sported its own assortment of scarlet stains. Some of the spatter had been inadvertently wiped from her face and visible torso, but the remaining blood matted her hair and crusted on her face bringing with it a fresh round of horror as he looked at the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. The only consolation in all of it was that she at least it appeared to be breathing on her own. _

_He closed his eyes, remembering the last time she'd smiled at him, the way it lit up her whole face. Sara was physically beautiful, but the most spectacular thing about her was her mind. A gunshot wound to the head had the potential change all that. It hurt to watch as the staff carefully shifted her onto her side, her arms flopping about like she was a rag doll as the doctor-in-charge inspected a bloodied mass at the back of her skull. _

_His fingers prodded and poked at what looked to be a fairly deep wound. Taking a drain pan that a nurse offered him, he carefully sprayed the injury with a large syringe full of saline solution and took a closer look. Then he stripped his gloves off and barked a few orders to the others in the room before making his way through the door. _

_Grissom backed away allowing the man to exit and then grasped his arm. "How is she?" _

"_Who are you?" The Doctor asked, uncertain as to whether he should be talking to the man standing in front of him._

_Pulling out his ID, Grissom waved it at the Doctor. "I'm her supervisor, and a friend."_

"_Does Ms. Sidle have any family here, that I can speak with?"_

"_No. You can give me the details." Truthfully he wasn't sure of the instructions in her personnel file, but at this point he honestly didn't care. He needed to know her prognosis; he needed to assure himself that he would have another opportunity to make things right between them._

"_Okay then…" He indicated an empty room off to the right and Grissom followed him in. _

"_Is she going to be alright?" The CSI supervisor's breath caught in his throat. "I was told she was shot…"_

"_Yes, it was a flesh wound, painful, but not fatal, just grazed her ribs. Our primary concern is her head injury." He indicated the back of his neck, the same spot Grissom had seen him examining earlier. "She took a nasty whack. She either hit something on the way down, or was pushed into something. The worst-case scenario she has a brain bleed we will have to go in and repair it. Best case, she has a wicked concussion and of course." He added. "There is always the possibility of swelling. I am sending her down for a CAT scan immediately after that we'll know more."_

_Grissom nodded silently. For the moment all he could do was wait and hope._

_There was no doubt about it. Hospital food sucked and it was only the loud and painful growls from his stomach that had him eating it. The tuna sandwich that he'd inhaled tasted nothing like what it was supposed too and the salad was wilted shadow of some kind of foliage and had a suspicious coating of slime on it._

_Grissom shoved it aside and stared into the bottom of his coffee cup. By the time he had returned to the triage unit. All traces of Sara were gone, except for a telltale patch of congealing blood where the stretcher used to be. A lone janitor stood running his mop through it, doing little more than spreading it across the floor in diluted crimson swirls._

_He'd stood there silently watching as the last traces were removed, until a_ _nurse told him they had taken her for the CAT scan, and gave him directions to the cafeteria where he could wait until Sara was done and settled in her room. _

_Sitting there, waiting, his sense of responsibility prodded him. He had calls to make and stuff to take care of. He needed to call Luke's department back in LA and get the contact information for his family so they could make arrangements for disposal of his body. There was paperwork to fill out and a follow-up with Doc Robbins. All of these things were necessary and should already be underway, but he was stuck in a void waiting for Sara and her test results. _

_By the time he had returned to the Emergency unit, he spotted Catherine and Nick waiting in the lounge area. The two of them had ignored Grissom's orders, but he didn't have the heart to get angry with them. Of course they should be there, aside from being co-workers, they were her friends, and the closest thing she had to family. They were a part of all of this._

_Catherine looked at him as he approached. "Sorry…" She indicated Nick. "Sitting around waiting for you to call was killing us."_

"_How is she?" Nick asked grim faced._

_Grissom shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "We're just waiting for some test results."_

"_Ecklie said she was shot and Brass' ass is in a sling for it." Catherine pushed for more information._

_He repeated what the doctor had told him earlier. A question had formed on Catherine's lips, but it died there as the Emergency Room Doctor he'd talked to earlier, entered the waiting area and made his way over to the group. _

"_Good news... Mr. Grissom. Ms. Sidle's scan came back negative for any bleeds. She isn't out of the woods yet so we'll keep a close eye on her, but personally I think she got lucky today. She has a severe concussion from that nice little hole at the back of her head, but it's been stitched up." He drew his hand across the stubble on his chin, and thought for a moment before going on. _

"_She's being taken to ward 6B and we'll be keeping her for a couple of days. She began to come to while we were scanning her, so we've given her a mild sedative so she'll be asleep for the time being. We don't want her moving around too much for the next 12 hours or so." _

_Grissom nodded numbly and thanked the doctor before dazedly exiting out into the hallway, repeating 6B over and over._

_Catherine and Nick exchanged glances and followed him. In front of the elevators Catherine grabbed Grissom's elbow "Gil are you okay?"_

"_Yeah..." He nodded his head. _

_It was a lie._

"_When you get the chance, Doc Robbins wants you to call him." _

_His head bobbed almost imperceptibly. "As soon as I see Sara, I'm going to head back to the lab. Can either of you stay here? I don't want her to be alone." He looked from Catherine to Nick. _

"_Uh yeah, I can." Nick offered. "We closed the Montebeck case last night."_

"_Me too, I have to go take Lindsay to school in the morning, but I'm fine until then."_

"_Good." Then almost as an afterthought, he looked at Catherine. "Who's in charge at the lab right now?"_

"_Greg..." Catherine smiled at him._

_Grissom's mouth dropped._

"_Just kidding, Mayfield from days and Greg are into their second shift working on a rape. Ecklie's covering tonight."_

_The green plastic sign out side of ward __said Neurology. Sara's room was two doors in and kitty corner to the nurses' station. The minute they stepped through the sliders, a nurse was standing in front of them mumbling something unimportant about visitation and visiting hours. _

_Grissom pulled out his ID and waved it at her. She didn't even have time to reply before he stepped into the room. He stopped just inside and willed his pulse to slow._

_Sara lay ashen and motionless on the bed amidst IV lines and an assortment of wires. If it hadn't been for the one of the monitors bleeping out the steady rhythm of her heart beat, for all to hear. He could easily have confused her with one of Doc Robbins' guests, but she was warm to the touch, he realized as he grasped one still hand._

_Someone had tried to clean her hair and face. Slipping around to the other side of the bed Gil Grissom ran a hesitant finger along her hair line. There were still traces of dried blood outlining her face, and a mottled bruising along the delicate nape of her neck. Afresh moment of terror seized him, and he closed his eyes against the reality of having almost lost her. Abstractly, he wondered if there was any way he could wrap her in a plastic bubble and keep her safe forever. _

"_Catherine's calling her Mom." Nick had followed him into the room and was now standing opposite the older man. "Hey Sar..." He pushed her hair back off of her forehead and planted a soft kiss there and took her other hand in his. It didn't matter to him whether she could hear him or not. He wanted her to know that she wasn't alone. _

_Nick Stokes' openness caused a tendril of envy to snake its way through Grissom's chest. The emotion was one that he wasn't used to and the pettiness of it made his stomach roil. How could he wish away the contact when he himself couldn't provide it?He closed his eyes against his own recriminations. He wasn't jealous of Nick or his ministrations, just the fact that the younger man had the freedom and self-confidence to express his feelings._

_Catherine entered shortly after with two cups of coffee. "My Mom said she could take Lindsay to school in the morning if you need me to stay longer…"_

"_No…" Nick turned to the red head. "I can stay. You go home to your daughter, Sara would understand."_

_Grissom shook his head. "Don't worry, I shouldn't be too long, when I get back you can both head home." His hand absently massaged Sara's. "I need to contact LA. Notify Luke's family." Almost as if on cue his pager went off. The name that flashed across the screen only reinforced the fact that he had responsibilities to attend to. It was Robbins. He gazed at the prone figure in the bed a moment longer and fingered her still damp hair. "I'll be back soon." He assured both her and himself before he left the room._

Sara Sidle was keeping secrets, Grissom decided as he stepped out of the shower and pulled one of her thick towels around him. Wiping at the steam on the mirror, he pulled his shaving kit out of his bag and rooted around for his razor and cream. The bruises, the Doctor's insistence that she'd been raped, the newfront door, and her unwillingness to talk about any of it, invariably screamed foul play. He was equally sure that Denton had something to do with it; so many years of reading evidence refused to allow him deny it.

"Damn." He cursed softly as he realized that there was no foam in his kit. Flipping the dimmer up a little he blinked against the light and searched the bathroom counter. Women used shave gel on their legs… he told himself. There had to be some, somewhere. Scratching at his beard, he thought about leaving the cleanup, but decided against it.

There was none in plain sight, so he opened the small linen closet beside the shower. A large unopened package of condoms was the first item to catch his attention. Shifting it aside, he noted that there was an assortment of feminine items, hair products, creams, and soap, but no shaving foam.

His search of the cupboard below the sink rendered the same results. Now that is weird, he told himself. Even if Sara didn't shave, he knew Denton did. It took a moment for him to put his finger on it, but then the realization dawned on him. Not only was there no shaving equipment that a man might keep at his lover's place, but there really was no evidence that Luke Denton had ever been in there. This was highly unusual for someone in a long-term relationship.

Grissom suddenly found himself on a mission, his beard forgotten; he slipped a clean grey t-shirt on, along with a pair of jeans, and began the search. Yanking the lid off of a small wicker laundry hamper he eyed its contents. It provided a pair of pink sweat socks, women's black lace underwear, and a damp towel.

Leaving the washroom he shut the lights and moved into the living room area. Her shelves were stuffed with books, magazines and texts. The few artifacts that decorated them spoke of Sara's love for animals. There was a small puppy sculpture, a crystal seal, and a jade elephant with an upturned trunk. Above her desk hung two bug pictures he'd given her for her birthday a few years earlier, and on her desk sat a laptop, a notepad with a shopping list, a slip of paper with the new entry code, some bills, but little else.

There were no pictures of the two of them together; there were none of the fitness magazines that the younger man had been so fond of toting around. Having been there no more than 40 minutes, Grissom realized he had left more of himself in Sara's apartment, than her boyfriend had in four months. Grabbing his cell phone from his coat pocket, he dialed Nick.

A sharp laugh broke through the line as the young CSI answered with a "Hey boss…"

"Nicky, what are you doing right now?"

"Watching the comedy network and making myself something to eat." Another laugh sounded in the background, as Nick picked up the remote and hit the mute button. "I'm heading in at ten tonight I want to stop and visit Sara at the hospital on my way in." He dropped a pad of butter into the frying pan and then with his free hand started mixing his eggs.

"Don't bother. She's at home and she is sleeping right now."

"Oh… So they sprung her? Is she okay?"

"No, but she wouldn't listen to reason." Grissom rubbed his forehead trying to dissuade the burgeoning symptoms of his migraine. "Listen, I'm going to need you to come over here later, probably mid shift. I am going in at twelve, because I'm still trying to get in touch with Luke's next of kin. So I will meet you there, but if you get in early I have a few things I want you to do."

"Sure shoot." Nick stopped mixing his eggs and drew a pen from the basket on his counter and held it over a stack of bright green post its.

"First off, see if Bobby got any matches off the shell casings taken from Luke's body."

"Uh boss…"

"Yes, Nick?"

"Ecklie has made it pretty clear that we are hands off on this case."

"He doesn't need to know – tell Bobby he owes me. He'll know what you mean."

A cautious, "Okay…" exited the younger CSI's mouth.

"Also – and this is absolutely between you and I."

"Sure…" Nick looked down at his dinner, it was beginning to smoke.

"I want you to run a background check on Luke Denton."

He wasn't sure if he'd heard Grissom right. "Luke?" He asked pulling the skillet off the stove.

"Yes." He let out a hesitant breath. "I want it to be as in depth as you can without raising any red flags."

"Can I ask why?" Nick was literally scratching his head over this one. The man was dead. He almost said as much, but Grissom's answer cut off his train of thought.

"No. I'll tell you later. I just need you to do this for me, all right?"

Perplexed Nick looked down at his stack of post-its… He'd inadvertently written "_why?" _all over the sheet in his tight neat handwriting. "What am I looking for?"

"Anything unusual, I'm sure you'll know it when you see it."

"Okay, Boss."

"Thanks. I'll see you at the lab tonight." He flicked the end button on his phone and then scrolled down the list. His next call was to Catherine.

She came to the phone out of breath and sounding seriously pissed off. "What now?"

"Cath…?"

"Gil..." She stared down at the number on her display. "Sorry…. I thought you were my mom."

"Glad I'm not…" He grinned tightly.

"You got that right." Catherine was haphazardly grabbing dirty dishes and shoving them in her dishwasher. The clinking of glass sounded violent to Grissom's ears.

"Is everything okay?" His voice was soft, woven with concern and amusement.

"No it's not, but there is nothing you or I can do about it. My Mom just has to learn to get her head out of her ass where my Father is concerned." She stopped and placed on well manicured hand on her hip. "Hey, do you know where I can get her a lobotomy… maybe that'll help."

"You could talk to Albert…" He offered loosely.

"Yeah, right..." Catherine smiled at that. "Hey, how's Sara? I was going to stop in on my way to work tonight."

"She's at home. I'm staying with her for the time being, but I need to go in at the beginning of shift. Can you come here instead of the lab?"

"Sure… Where is here, though? I have never been to her place."

"Ah…" He wandered over to her desk and picked up a phone bill he'd seen earlier, read the address off to her, and then followed up with the access codes.

Catherine jotted down the information along with the directions "Okay. I'll be there around 11:30."

"Thanks. I'm shifting us off tonight. Nicky will relieve you at around four. That way you can take care of anything at the lab that needs your attention."

"Sounds good… I'll see you in a few hours."

A distant click sounded in his ear as the line disconnected and suddenly Grissom felt the weight of the last few days settle heavily on his shoulders. Flipping his cell closed, his gaze roamed around Sara's apartment. It was eclectic, much like the woman who owned it. He considered this a moment. It was strange. He had always thought he knew her more intimately than anyone, yet he realized with a guilty clarity that there was an overwhelming amount he didn't know about her. Sara Sidle was an intriguing puzzle that he had been way too terrified to figure out.

Closing his eyes he massaged his temples. His migraine was still there, hammering its way around his brain. The only thing that could help would be sleep. He suddenly felt very tired, but there was one more call to make. Pulling Sara's prescription out of his pocket he called his Pharmacist, and read off the details on the paper in front of him. No other pharmacist would issue a prescription without an actual call from the doctor or a hard copy from the patient, but he had known Monty Jones for years and there was a lot of trust between the two. He was more than willing to help, assuring Gil the pain meds would be delivered within the hour.

With that taken care of, Grissom turned off all the lights in the room. Pulled a soft chenille throw off the back of the couch and dropped onto it. Within minutes he was asleep.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note: **This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

****

**Chapter 8**

_There's a darkness living deep in my soul_

_It's still got a purpose to serve._

_(Everlast – Whitey Ford sings the blues)_

_**Sara's apartment**_

_**Aug 22, 9pm **_

The irritatingly shrill whine of Sara's intercom shocked Grissom awake, less than an hour after his head had hit the pillow. Sucking in a deep breath, he hobbled his way over to the offending item and punched the button on it.

"Yeah…" He stifled a yawn.

"Gil it's me, Monty."

"Oh hi, come up…4th floor." He punched the entry button and pulled the apartment door open.

A few moments later a short squat man stepped out of the elevator. His pale eyes searched the hallway, as he slid his spectacles up his nose with a thick ham-like fist. Then catching sight of a rumpled Gil Grissom, he waved to his old friend. A few seconds later the bag and the prescription changed hands.

"Thanks…" Grissom dangled the bag in front of the pharmacist. "You could have sent it with a delivery man."

A broad smile spilt the man's face. "Well, I was on my way home, but I really needed to take a look at the actual prescription just to make sure you got the right stuff." He eyed the note first, before tucking it into a pocket and then passed his friend a sheet of paper. "Just the drug information that we give out to all our customers."

"Thanks again, Monty."

"Night Gil."

Grissom closed the door softly behind him and banished the sleep from his eyes with one thick fist. Staring at the sack in his hand he moved into the kitchen and dropped it on the counter. A little rummaging in the cupboard yielded a glass and once the childproof cap had been removed the prescription bottle gave up two of the pills.

The neon lights of the city's casinos glowed fiercely against the inky backdrop of the evening sky, telling him that it was fairly late. The clock on the wall indicated the actual time was only nine o'clock. Gil Grissom had slept for maybe an hour. The trembling of his stomach and limbs indicated that this was far too little sleep and he needed to at least grab a few more hours. Which is what he intended to do, but first he had to wake Sara. I he remembered correctly, she'd had her last pills at around four and it was past the time for the next set.

Entering her bedroom for the second time in as many hours Grissom tapped the bedside lamp on and looked down at the sleeping form on the bed. Amidst the darkness and the dim light that chased it away, Sara's skin looked luminous. The bandage on the back of her neck was clearly visible from under her hair, and a garish purple contusion had grown under and around it, marring the delicate skin of her neck. The sheets had ridden down her body while she slept, exposing the pale skin of her hips and abdomen. He noted with fascination that she had several beauty marks decorating her midsection. He filed this knowledge away in his mind, savoring it for his own private contemplation at a later date and time.

The contrasting shadows on her face betrayed none of her earlier emotions. She seemed to be at peace. He was tempted to leave her, but thought the better of it. The doctor had been specific in his instructions. She needed to be awakened. A stifled moan broke relative the quiet of the room, and suddenly a peaceful sleep had turned into something akin to a nightmare. Sara's face contorted in pain and she let out a softly panicked "No…" before clutching at the covers that lay knotted around her, and yanking them up to her neck.

Grissom's hand instantly reached for her arm. It was meant to provide comfort, possibly ease her awake. Instead much to his shock and horror it drew the opposite effect. Jolted awake, Sara threw herself into a sitting position and swung her fist at him; the words "Son of a bitch…" fiercely tumbling from her mouth.

Reflexively, he blocked her blow mere inches from his face, his fingers wrapping themselves around her slender wrist in the process. Their hands hung suspended for a moment before comprehension spread across her features. Sara's horrified, "sorry_"_, came out as a quivering retch. Yanking her arm from his grasp, the young brunette hurled herself off the bed fear, anger, and embarrassment mingling with the bile forcing its way up her esophagus as she made a mad dash for the bathroom. .

The door was closed when he arrived there, but his apprehension and concern overruled his desire to be considerate. He didn't hesitate to push it open. Sara was perched over the toilet again, one arm unsteadily supporting the balance of her weight. Her eyes were closed and she swayed slightly. There was nothing in the toilet other than a few strands of saliva, and a couple droplets of fresh blood most likely brought on by force of her stomach spasms.

Watching her suffer brought him to his knees emotionally. To him, Sara had always been a bit of an enigma. She was stronger than her delicate frame belied, so to see her so undone, so terribly vulnerable, rendered him bereft.

His arms slid around her gaunt frame, the dampness of her skin easily soaking through her own thin t-shirt and imprinting itself on Grissom's. She was trembling; her skin was cold and clammy to the touch, and her breath shallow against his chest. He shifted her weight against one shoulder and brushed away the unruly ringlets that clung to her face. Her head fell back as he drew her chin upwards, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the gray pallor of her flesh.

"Sara… You need to go back to the hospital." His voice, laced with concern, brought a negative nod from her.

"Just help me back to bed, please." Her words were little more than a whisper, but her plea tore at his heart.

"This isn't normal, Sara. I don't think this is a concussion. You might have an infection, or something." He thought back to the ER doctor's list of possible etiologies.

"I'm fine…" She assured him and pulled shakily away. "My headache is almost gone. I'm just dizzy, and nauseated…" She was hungry too, but she had no desire to put anything in her stomach that she might see again later.

Her slender legs quaked as she clutched the bathroom counter for support and turned to leave. Grissom came from behind her again, his arm once again snaking its way around her waist. The warmth of his body was something her own desperately craved. Instinctively, she bent into him as he led her out of the bathroom and back to bed. His eyes strayed back to the bruises on her thighs, as she dropped onto the mattress.

He had questions, a lot of them, and at the moment they were eating away at any and all of the self-control he possessed, but the haunted look in her eyes, begged him not to press the issue. Sliding back onto the mattress, Sara self-consciously pulled the blankets up over her exposed legs and then rested her head back against the head board, dark lashes splayed against her sallow cheeks.

"Here…" Grissom retrieved the abandoned pills from the side of her bed and passed them to her. Her dark eyes opened groggily, but she popped the drugs into her mouth, chasing them down with the water he provided.

"Sara, I'm going to call Doc Robbins to come over and take a look at you." He told her, the tone of his voice making it clear that there was no room for argument on the matter. Grasping her free hand, his fingers moved up her wrist. She eyed him speculatively for a moment before realizing that his touch, though soothing, actually had a purpose. He was taking her pulse.

"Ummm… Doc Robbins is a coroner… Are you trying to tell me I look like the dead?" She licked her lips trying to moisten them.

"No you look beautiful." His answer was shockingly honest and it had slipped out without thought. "But your color is not good." He followed up quickly.

Confusion shifted through Sara's already addled brain. There was a time in her not to distant past that a comment like that would have caused her immeasurable misery. She would have moved between the desire to believe that what he had said actually meant something, and the horrifying truth that even if it did, he would never act on it. Now she knew better than to place any stock in his words, aside from which, she reasoned, she felt far too crappy to contemplate it.

"I'm cold…" It was a statement of fact. As if to punctuate it a chill ran through her causing Sara to outwardly shudder. "I have a few track tops in my armoire. Can you please get me one?"

"Sure…" Grissom moved to the large maple storage unit, and swung the doors open. His eyes immediately falling on a loose grey crew neck with the standard burgundy _Harvard_ silk-screened across its front. He brought it back to her.

Anxiousness flitted across her face momentarily, before she took it from him and shrugged her way into it. Her days at Harvard held the comfort of good and the pain of not so good memories. Some of them still having a direct impact on her present life, but Grissom had no way of knowing that and she didn't want to enlighten him.

"Better?" His hand drifted to hers and she trembled again.

"Yeah…" She lied. Sliding under the blankets completely, Sara turned away so he couldn't see the truth in her face.

His eyes never left her as he pulled his cell from his pocket. It was an alphabetical reality that the first person listed on his speed dial was grave shift ME. The phone rang a few times before the Coroner answered with harried, "Robbins".

"Hey, Albert..." Grissom's free hand went out to soothe Sara whose shivers still had not subsided. He rubbed her back trying to ease some warmth into her.

"Gil, I heard about Sara. How is she?"

He turned away and lowered his voice." Not too good, actually," he replied wincing against the crashing return of his migraine.

"I thought she was out of the woods and at home, according to Ecklie."

"She is, but she doesn't look good. Her skin is gray, cold and clammy. Her pulse rapid and she is severely nauseated."

The Coroner's voice dropped dramatically. "They sent her home like this?"

Grissom shoved his phone into the crook of his neck and massaged his forehead. "No, she was insistent and left AMA. They said she had a concussion and that I should wake her, and they gave her pain medication."

"She could have a bleed." He offered.

His heart seized at the idea, but he thought back to his conversation withthe Doctor prior to her discharge. "No, she had a CAT scan. They said everything was okay."

There was silence on the line for a second or two, before Robbins replied. "Well the nausea is common with a head injury. The rest can be attributed to shock. It's understandable really, a lot has happened to her in the last 36 hours. There's the emotional trauma of being involved in a shooting, losing her lover, and then the physical strain of being injured. The body has its own way of dealing with this kind of distress. Does she show any sign of diminished mental function, confusion, or disorientation?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, then maybe she just needs the comfort of friends and some time to heal. It's going to be hard to face this all alone. There is always survivor guilt and the feeling of intense loss."

Grissom nodded though he knew the man on the other end could not see him. "Thanks, Doc."

"No problem, but listen, if she gets worse, I would call 911 and get her back into the hospital despite what she says." Grissom could hear the man raking his fingers across his beard on the other end of the line. "Also, if you'd like I can drop by to see her after shift. I would come now but I'm already at work. Benemen from days is sick and a four car pile up on the I-90 has me stacking them in the hallway. I'm closed in here for at least the next 12 hours."

"Okay… I'll be in tonight so I'll touch base in person. Sara won't be alone; I have Catherine and Nick coming by here for a while."

"Alright… Give Sara a hug from me and I'll see you then." The line went dead with an air of finality.

Grissom glanced at his watch. It was 9:30. Depressing the alarm button on it, he set it for two hours. Catherine would be arriving around that timeIt didn't give him much time to rest, but he had a busy night ahead of him. His eyes drifted back towards the living room couch, as another tremor wracked Sara's body. The track top and blankets weren't working, the only time she'd stopped trembling was when he'd held her and she'd absorbed his body heat.Pursing his lips, he drew the blankets back and for the second time in less than 24 hours, he climbed into bed with a woman he knew he had no right to be with. Moving up behind her he placed his arms around her slim waist and pressed himself into her back. In her sleep, she stiffened slightly and then relaxed into his embrace. Slowly he drifted off into a contented slumber enveloped by her intensely individual smell.

_**Sara's apartment**_

_**August 22, 11:30 pm**_

Gil Grissom woke up with his heart pounding in his chest; his forehead beaded with sweat, and embarrassingly turned on. His first instinct, the one put forth by the thinking part of body, was to run. Simply extricate himself from their tangle of limbs, and make a beeline for anywhere other than the seductive confines of Sara Sidle's bed. His heart held him in place though, winning the momentary battle with his head. He looked down at the woman resting in his arms and allowed himself to savor it for the briefest span of time.

"Gil." There was a hand on his shoulder shaking him. Catherine stood uncertainly at the bedside taking in the sight before her and arrived at the same conclusion that Grissom had earlier. This situation was not a good idea. "Get up sleepy head…" She shook him again.

He squinted against the harsh light streaming in from the main living area and held up a hand. Pointing the sleeping figure in the bed beside him, he then drew his finger to his mouth. He didn't want to wake her yet. Sara had fallen asleep almost immediately, but it had taken her almost 30 minutes to stop shaking and finally warm up.

The petite strawberry-blonde and turned on her heel, stalked out of the room, and waited for Grissom to join her outside. He was out within seconds, his hand immediately going to his forehead and massaging vigorously.

"I knocked." Catherine indicated the front door and pacing. "You know that…" she threw her chin towards the room he'd just exited. "…is not a good idea, Gil." Sheenunciated each word carefully. "Not for you and certainly not for Sara."

Grissom waved her off. "She was freezing. Couldn't warm up, I… I wasn't willing to leave her like that." Truth be told, he tried, but just couldn't make himself do it.

Catherine scrutinized him, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "Gil, that's bullshit and you know it." She shook her head.

"Well, Cath why don't you just say how you really feel."

"Don't mind if I do." She poked him in the chest. "She's been sleeping with Luke Denton for about two months. He's dead. She saw the whole thing. Now I'm no Psychologist, but the ramifications of that have to be traumatic and the more she felt for him the worse it is going to be for her."

His migraine had receded with the few hours of sleep he'd managed, but with each consecutive word Catherine was drawing it back to the forefront. For months, Grissom had denied that Sara had felt anything for the man. _It was only sex_. He kept telling himself that, even though he knew it was a fantasy. However, it was his fantasy and one which had managed to keep him sane and civil, but the logical and intelligent part of him knew that this wasn't rational. He knew this, with as much certainty, as he knew that Sara wasn't the type to share her body with someone without there being some kind of emotional commitment. He had believed that since Luke was only in Las Vegas for a short time, when he left the relationship would end. He had pointedly ignored the fact that when the man left there was the horrifying possibility that the woman he loved would go with him.

Catherine Willows took his silence to mean that she was free to continue. "Based on your past _non_-_relationship_ and your penchant for jerking her around… This… that…" She nodded towards that bedroom again. "Notoriously bad idea, in fact the absolute worst you have ever had." Her voice softened as observed the pain in his eyes. "Look, I'm just saying, be careful. Give her time to heal, emotionally. This…" she threw a thumb back towards the sleeping CSI, "would be easyto jump intobut it would do neither of you any good to get involved, right now. It's like jumping into a marriage with someone after a really bad break up. Doomed to certain failure..."

His fingers made a slow trek across his mouth bringing with it a false mask of indifference. "I was just trying to keep her warm."

"Right, live in denial much, Gil?" She was more than a little exasperated.

He held up a hand, frustration lacing his words. "Believe what you want. Regardless of what you think, she has been really sick since we arrived home. She hasn't eaten, she is severely nauseated, and the last time she got up she was really cold. She had some Tylenol #4s two hours ago; she can have another two at 1:30. I'm going to wake her and then I have to get to the lab."

Catherine's eyes bored holes into his back as he snatched up his bag and entered the washroom. A flush and the tap running sounded out in the main room and a short while later he emerged sporting a fresh green golf shirt, and black pants. Pointing towards the open door, he went back in to say good bye. He returned a second later.

"I woke her. She moaned and went back to sleep. Leave her until she's is due for her next pills. There's food in the fridge, Nicky will be by at 3 or 4." With that Grissom disappeared out into the hall, Sara's front door closing silently behind him.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

****

**Chapter 9**

_Cuz, I'm not angry, I'm not crying,_

_I'm just in over my head._

_(Holly Cole – Dark Dear Heart)_

_**LV Crime lab**_

**_Aug 23, 12:05 pm_**

"Okay… assignments…" Gil Grissom announced as he stomped into the break room a cup of coffee already in hand. His mind was awash with a slew of emotions. He really didn't want to be at work, and it was a feeling he wasn't used to. Instead of paying attention to the sheets in his hand, he found his mind drifting back the young woman he had left behind at the apartment. He shook off the intruding thoughts and forced himself to focus.

What greeted him at the table was not what he expected, though. The loss to his team was achingly obvious as he mentally processed the two unfamiliar faces staring back at him. He nodded to both of the them and cast a glance at a chagrined Nick Stokes, who looked to be trying to make conversation with the youngest and least experienced of them. "Uh…" He stared at the two newbies, for a moment and then perused the sheets in his hand. "What's your name?" He asked the slight, mouse haired man sitting closest to him.

"Mathers, I'm from days…" He announced proudly.

The entomologist studied him an instant noting that the man had a heavy lisp and little or no chin. Not that either of those features would impact on him doing his job well, but Grissom inferred from the badge on his chest that said "cadet" that his inexperience might.

"Yeah…" He deliberated the two assignments, and attempted match to CSI to crime. In the end he chose an overly-eager Mathers to work with Nick. Passing the Texan the top sheet, he grimaced and told him. "Trick roll… the Comfort Inn on 5th. Take Mathers here with you…"

Nick rolled his eyes, and made his way to the door, holding back as the smaller man made his way out of the room. "I'll catch up with you in the parking lot…" He nodded to the cadet and then looked back at his supervisor. "I left that thing you asked for on your desk. I was in at 10. There's nothing outstanding there, but it's in the red file folder."

"Thanks. Nick. Check in with me around three or so. Let me know how you're doing, and if you'll be clear to head over to Sara's." Anticipating the other man's question he cast a look at him and pursed his lips. "She was sleeping when I left."

"Thanks, boss…"

Turning back to the table Grissom stared at the only person left at the table and then down at the sheet in his hand. "Uh… You're Pretche, right? From days…?"

"Yes."

"Level 2…?" Grissom asked hopefully.

"Almost…"

"Okay…" He let out a labored breath and motioned for the bulky bald man to follow him. "We have a B&E in Hendersen." He quickly made his way out of the room, trying desperately not to think of the long night ahead of him.

_**Sara's apartment**_

**_Aug 23, 2:30 am_**

Catherine was amazed that she had actually fallen asleep after helping herself to some herbal tea and dropping onto one of Sara's soft black leather couches. She had slept during the day, but clearly not enough to shoo away the weariness that had hounded her constantly over the last few months.

She'd been walking a fine line between girlfriend, mother, and workaholic CSI. Evidently she didn't have the stamina she thought she did. Glancing at her watch she realized that she had let her young charge sleep an hour longer than she was supposed to. So she hauled herself up off the couch and straightened her low-cut maroon tank top, in an attempt to shift everything back to where it belonged. Catherine quickly followed up by running her fingers along her tight khaki slacks. It was a fruitless attempt to smooth out the wrinkles that had accumulated during her impromptu nap, so she gave up with a slight huff. The top was quite daring and had been for the benefit of her latest boyfriend Rob, a pit boss at the Bellagio. She smiled saucily; it had rendered the desired result, but in its wake had left both of them frustrated when time had run too short, for anything other than a quick embrace as opposed to the_ dessert _she'd originally planned Grabbing her thin beige sweater off the back of the couch she drew it on and did it up. It was cool in the apartment and goose bumps had begun to peak her flesh.

She took a quick step towards Sara's bedroom, her toe catching the forensics' periodical that was sprawled at her feet. She'd gotten two pages into an article on converging patterns of blood spatter, before her eyelids closed and dreamland had drawn her in.

Placing the magazine back on the table atop its pile she entered Sara's room. The young woman was dozing soundly. For a moment she considered allowing her to sleep through for another hour or so, but she knew that Grissom would expect a full report. Reaching out she tapped her charge lightly. She got no response.

"Hey, Sara…" Catherine shook the lanky brunette, and jumped back when she flung an arm in her direction and let out a loud moan.

"God… is this some kind of cult initiation?" The words were thick and mumbled.

"Huh…?"

"Sleep deprivation." The younger woman's head was still spinning. If possible, it was worse than before. "I swear the minute I hit REM sleep someone wakes me up… Pretty soon you will be able to program me to stand on street corners selling flowers…"

"Nah… If we were going to use that technique it might be applied to getting you to take better care of yourself."

"Right…" She closed her eyes, but it had no affect on the vertigo she was experiencing.

"You can't go back to sleep yet…" Catherine announced resolutely. She picked up the medication on the bedside table and shook it. "I'm told you have to take these."

A half hearted moan escaped the prone body on the bed. "I haven't been able to keep anything down."

"Just a few sips of water…" Seizing the empty glass from the bedside table the blonde woman disappeared into the main living area, while Sara lay on the bed, the world rapidly spinning around her.

Swallowing the bile sitting in her esophagus, she groaned again and just knew that her efforts were futile. Less than thirty seconds later, she was face first in the toilet.

The pounding on the door only exacerbated the throbbing in Sara's head. She'd locked herself in the bathroom less than five minutes earlier, and was sitting in a heap on the floor, while Catherine alternated between banging, and yelling. "Are you okay in there?" She hammered the door again.

"I'm fine…" Sara managed weakly.

"Sure you are…" Catherine's sarcasm was clear despite the plank of wood between them.

The slim young woman looked down at the bruises decorating her legs, and concluded that there would be far too many questions asked if the woman in the other room saw them. "Cath, can you get me fresh underwear and pajamas from my top drawer?"

"Sure…" The voice trailed off. A minute later there was a sharp rap on the door. Hauling herself up from her resting place, Sara grasped the doorknob unsteadily and peeked out. Two concerned blue eyes held out a pair of pink pajamas and some undies.

"Thanks…" She grasped them and quickly shut the door.

"Need some help?" Catherine leaned up against wall beside the door and closed her eyes. Clearly the young woman in the other room was a mess, but she was at a loss on how to comfort her. While they didn't dislike each other or anything, the strawberry blonde knew that they weren't as close as they could have been. It hadn't been intentional on her behalf. She had never meant to try and alienate the younger woman, but she'd managed to do so through a succession of encounters that were pretty much her fault. One of the things she'd taken from her days of dancing was a hardened exterior and a whip sharp tongue, which she'd directed at the younger CSI on a few too many occasions. It was this that would make it all that much more difficult for Sara to accept help from her on a personal level, since whatever trust the slim brunette placed in her, probably didn't extend to their non-professional relationship.

"Got anything to make the last few days disappear?" Sara inquired as she slipped into the fresh clothes and bit back on the instinctive moan that the increased movement brought on. She was stiff now; the trauma of the last few days finally catching up to her, and damn it all if the hot and cold flashes hadn't started again.

"Sorry… I wish I did…" The sincerity of the words was clearly evident to the younger CSI, notwithstanding the door between the two of them.

Sara's voice was soft. "S'okay… but thanks, anyway…" She slipped her track top back on over the fresh pajamas.

"Sara… I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye and there have been times that I've been really short with you… But you know, we're both women playing in a man's world and if you ever need anything, I'm…" Catherine didn't have time to finish the sentence before the door swung open and a shivering brunette wandered out. God she was in worse shape than she had though. Grissom had been right.

"I get it Cath… and thanks… really, I mean that." She let her dark eyes settle on the shorter woman. "It's all just PMS shit anyway…"

Catherine Willows grabbed Sara's elbow to try and steady her, as she wobbled uncertainly. "It's just that I don't want the fact that we've had a few rough patches to stop you from talking to me if you need to."

The slim brunette nodded. "In San Fran, I had two good girlfriends I worked with. We had similar days… Oh man, one time I reamed the shit out of my friend Jules so badly, I thought for sure she would never talk to me again… The next day… we were out laughing and taking in a show. Whenever one of us was having a crap day… we would let off on each other, but none of us ever took it too seriously because inevitably one of us would yell PMS, and we'd all end up pissing ourselves… No apology needed, it's all hormonal."

Catherine smiled at this. "Let's get you back to bed."

"MMMmmm… I think I need a garbage can beside it…"

"Okay, I'll get you one when you are tucked in."

Sara rolled back into bed and took the pills passed to her. Her eyes were already beginning to close as she washed them down with the water she was handed.

"Sweet dreams…" Catherine announced as the young woman rolled over onto her side. Pulling the blanket up around her patient, she walked over to the dresser and grabbed the waste basket from there and placed it beside the bed.

For a moment she studied her colleague and friend, amazed at her strength. She knew if it had been herself in the same position, she would have fallen completely apart.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 10**

_There's an angel with her hand on my head_

_She say I got nothing to fear._

_(Everlast – Whitey Ford sings the blues)_

_**Sara's apartment**_

**_August 23, 4:30 am_**

This time Catherine was startled awake by a sharp rapping the front door. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she walked on rubber legs over to the door. "Who is it?" She enquired and peeked through the peep hole.

"It's me, Nick. Open up before one of the neighbors calls the cops…"

The reddish-blonde CSI pulled the door open and allowed the younger man in. "Hell, she has some nosey neighbors… Don't these people ever sleep?" He asked his head swiveling back out towards the hallway, where down at the end a mound of dark hair peered out from another apartment. His southern drawl was thicker than usual indicting that he was pretty tired.

"Mmmmm, the joy of living in an apartment, no privacy and the neighbors hear everything. Especially the sex…" The reddish-blonde woman inhaled deeply as the handsome Texan wandered past with three coffees and a bag of pastries and popped them on the counter. The rich bold aroma of the coffee woke Catherine immediately and eagerly reached for the cup that Nick Stokes passed her.

"Is sleeping beauty awake?" He enquired, his eyes wandering around the apartment looking for any sign of his friend.

"No she's slept pretty much the whole time, me too actually." She took a sip of the coffee and moaned with pleasure. "There's a barf bucket beside her bed. When I woke her up was feeling pretty bad. I got her back to bed after a trip to the bathroom, but she asked that I put the waste basket there."

Nick grimaced. His heart went out to his Sara; she'd been through so much the past few days. Losing a lover, being hurt, and now apparently too sick to even eat. Grissom, had warned him about the nausea and vomiting, and had also mentioned that he and the Doc would be by after shift.

Reaching into the bag Catherine pulled out a chocolate croissant and sunk her teeth into it; her eyes studying the younger man in front of her as she ate. He looked drawn and tired, though he had managed to change from his earlier gray t-shirt into a tight black polo shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. Clearly he had gone home as instructed. They'd been on a brutal schedule lately, with barely time between shifts to shower and change. She took another bite. The chocolate was rich and sweet against the bold bitter taste of the coffee still left on her tongue.

"Mmmmm…" Catherine moaned again. "These are good." She held up the pastry, with one hand and grabbed her purse with the other. "I gotta go. Ecklie has been harassing me about some paperwork that has been misplaced since before we switched back to grave. I am due to spend the rest of the night in the file room searching for the damn stuff, if there's nothing going on." Flipping her wrist over, she checked her watch and nodded at the man in front of her. "She needs to get up now. Just wake her and let her go back to sleep. There are pain pills beside her bed. She can have two in two hours. Okay?"

"Yup." He dipped his head cowboy style at her and then locked the door behind her as she left. Taking a gulp of his coffee, he placed it on the counter and then went into the bedroom.

The room itself was no surprise to him, as he frequently dropped by to visit and had wandered in there a few times. The last time he'd visited he had helped her unpack the new furniture she'd bought. They'd christened the couches by hoeing down on pizza and beer while watching really bad cowboy movies. Of all of her friends he suspected that he was the most comfortable in her place, simply because he had been there the most. He wasn't sure if Catherine had ever been over, he new Greg and Warrick definitely hadn't, and Grissom, as always, was a mystery.

"Hey, sweet pea…" Picking up the garbage can, he noted two white gobs floating in a pool of saliva at the bottom of it. Inspecting the contents closely he dropped the can back on the floor and picked up the drug bottle. It looked as though she'd thrown up the pills she'd had earlier. "Hey…" He placed a warm hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Wake up, buttercup."

A tired groan emanated from prone form on the bed. "Is that you, Nick?" She squinted through the darkness of the room trying to make out the face of the man beside her bed.

"Yeah, how you feelin'…?" One warm hand went out to wipe away the curls clinging to her damp forehead.

"Crappy…" She mumbled.

"You threw up your pills."

"Mmmm… nothing wants to stay down." Her dark eyes fluttered.

"Do you want some more?"

She shook her head groggily. "No. I'm not really in pain. Just stiff and tired…"

Dropping onto the bed beside her he took one cool hand in his. "Are you still dizzy? Gris said you have vertigo pretty bad."

She nodded. "Just like a permanent merry-go-round."

"He wanted me to tell you he'll be here around eight."

Another soft moan escaped her lips. "He thinks I need to be babied."

"You do and it's not a crime to need someone, Darlin'."

Sucking in a deep breath Sara turned her eyes him. "Yeah, but Grissom is not the person to do it. You and I both know that."

"I beg to differ." His hand absently massaged one delicate wrist. "He's been a distracted mess all night."

"He's just lost a loaner CSI. It's normal."

"He almost lost a permanent CSI…"

"Well that would have fucked up the work schedule, now wouldn't it?"

"Watch your language, Princess, or I'm gonna have to spank you. You know you mean more to Gris, than just an employee."

"Sure… whatever…" Sara shivered under the covers and the fact didn't escape her newest caregiver.

"You cold…?" He kneaded her hand, noting that it had gone from cool to clammy in a matter of seconds.

"I get these chills every now and then, like some one is dipping me in ice water." Groaning she shuddered, again. "This sucks."

"I brought an extra coffee… would that warm you up?"

"Maybe a little sip…"

"You got it…" Nick left the room and was back in less than a minute only to find his friend, sprawled at an odd angle, with her head hanging over the side of the bed. She was in the midst of dry heaving, her pale face dangling over the garbage can. "Damn, Sara…" He dropped down beside her on the bed, and pulled her hair out of her face.

"There's nothing left to come out." She let her head dangle forlornly off the side of the mattress. A warm hand rubbed her back, as the fresh hot bitterness of coffee in his fist assaulted her senses.

"Take a taste…" He waved it under her nose hoping the strong aroma would entice her. Instead it brought on another bout of dry heaves. "Oh man…" He leaned over and placed the coffee on the bedside table. "Maybe you should go back to the hospital…" His hand never left her back as he tried to massage some heat back into her.

"No… Just get me some dimenhydrinate. I think I have some in this medicine cabinet." She pointed to the closed door at the foot of her bed. It had been a bathroom, before she started the renovations. Now it was just a hollowed out shell. The only remaining thing in the room was actually the medicine cabinet, which was a beautiful old antique that she'd picked at a flea market. Normally, she didn't store anything in there but when she'd moved everything into the main bathroom before the construction, she'd left some of the little used medications.

"Dimenwhat?"

"Gravol..." Sara seemed content to leave her head hanging where it was. In fact by the time he had returned she was almost asleep in the same position.

"Come on buttercup, take these and back into bed." Slipping and arm under her he shifted her over and flipped her onto her back. She just moaned.

"Here…" He nudged her and squeezed her cheeks until her mouth popped open. Then he placing the pills on her tongue he held a glass of water to her lips and he waited until she took a liberal gulp. "That should settle your stomach…" He tugged the blanket back up around her and gripped her hand as she settled into a heavy slumber.

A few moments later her breathing had taken on the shallow even rhythm of someone sound asleep. Shoving her hair off her face he stared at her mesmerized by slow rise and fall of her chest and grateful that she was still alive. Releasing her hand from his he made his way back into the living room area and grabbing a throw, he tossed it on an over stuffed leather chair she'd recently purchased. He could curl up on the couch, but he wanted to be near her. This was more to calm any concerns he had about her other than anything born of real necessity, so he coaxed the chair back into her room and placed it beside her bed. Then moving the garbage pail aside he dropped into the chair and took her hand in his.

A soft whimper escaped Sara's lips and she rolled onto her side towards him. A second later she was once again calm and had slipped back into a contented slumber. Nick watched her sleep for about half an hour, at some point falling victim to his own exhaustion.

_**LV Crime Lab**_

**_August 23, 5:30 am_**

A loud knock on the door startled Grissom from the notes he was reading, causing him to drop the bulk of the file's paper in disarray on his desk. Casting a glance at the doorway, he rapidly picked up the report and shoved it back into the red folder that Nick had prepared for him earlier. Not that Catherine, in any way, would be able to tell what the papers were about from where she was standing. It was just that there was a residual sense of guilt that was gnawing at him for having asked his CSI to do a background check on Sara's dead lover and if Catherine were to find out, he was certain that she would read more into it than he really wanted to deal with at the moment.

"Did you finally manage to get in touch with Luke's parents?" She dropped her head to one side, trying to gauge his emotions. He'd been more than a little testy at Sara's earlier. If he'd had another night of frustration at the hands of the LAPD, she figured that, combined with a lack of sleep and too much coffee, would make Gil Grissom an unhappy camper, to say the least. That would make broaching the subject that had been plaguing her from the moment she left Sara's condo, a dangerous endeavor.

Pulling his glasses off, he dropped them onto his desk and massaged his eyes. The B&E had turned out to be something of a family feud situation, so shortly after they'd ascertained that the 'crime'was actually an angry brother in-law who had broken in to retrieve and item that in fact belonged to him. They'd left the police to sort out the details, packed up and returned to the lab. A message regarding Luke's family had been waiting for him by the time he'd reached the office. "LAPD finally managed to get in touch with them this evening. They just arrived home. Apparently…" He picked up the note pad in front of him and read off the names. "Mr. & Mrs. Wilbur Denton, were out of town for their 45th wedding anniversary. LAPD met them at arrivals and told them what had happened."

Catherine's face dropped. "Isn't this wonderful news to come back to? Did he have any siblings?"

Grissom shook his head solemnly. "No. He was their only child."

Catherine closed her eyes sadly and bobbed her head.

"They are flying into Vegas around mid afternoon today." Taking a cloth from his drawer he cleaned his glasses and slipped them back on. "How was Sara when you left her?"

The blonde CSI shook her head. "Not good. She threw up when I was there. There was nothing to come up, though."

Kneading his beard for a moment, he took in his friend's face and knew from the expression there, that there was something else she wanted to say. He also knew, from the grim set of her mouth, that she was leery of approaching the subject. "What?"

Catherine Willow's eyebrows shot up.

"If you have something to say, just say it. As long as it isn't along the same lines as the conversation we had earlier tonight." Grissom warned her.

She pursed her lips and then moved to drop into the chair in front of the aggravated entomologist. Letting out a heavy sigh she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk. "She was really bad when I left, Gil. Chills, dry heaves, weak…" Her head bobbed slightly on her hands. "I've been there before…"

"And…" Overtired and over-caffeinated Grissom just wanted her to get to the pointand leave so he could get back to the report.

"And I can tell you, that the only time I was ever as sick as she appears to be, was during my first trimester with Lindsay. I couldn't keep a damn thing down. I puked up everything I ate. Anything and everything would trigger my nausea." She leveled him with a somber gaze. "Did you ever consider that she might be pregnant?"

Gil Grissom's face had changed from its normal shade of tan, to something resembling a sheet of paper. "She can't be…"

Catherine laughed sardonically and shook her head. "Why not..? I'm sure they were going at it like bunnies and accidents happen, Gil."

"Sara's smarter than that. I'm sure she was using protection." He retorted.

"You can't know that or the state of their relationship. Maybe they were talking kids… But even if they weren't, have I ever told you how I got pregnant with Lindsay?"

"I assumed it was from having sex with Eddie." Grissom commented dryly.

"Don't be a smart ass, Gil." The petite blonde leaned back into her chair and crossed her legs. "I was on the pill and we always used condoms. Yet, sometime around September of '92, I realized I was a month late." She let her words sink in a moment. "Turns out, the pill dosage was too weak and we blew a rubber. Nine months and 36 hours of excruciating labor later, we welcomed our little girl into the world." Catherine folded her hands in her lap and stared up at her old friend. "Protection is a barrier, not a guarantee."

"Okay…?" Grissom's tightly clenched fists spread, as he held his hands out to the side in a gesture that indicated he didn't know what it was she was expecting him to do about her theory.

"Well you have to talk to her. She needs to be tested. There are chemicals we use in the lab here that can harm an unborn fetus; light sources, x-rays, diseases, and a variable of unknowns that can be devastating to a pregnant woman." Catherine leaned forward her eyes flashing. "And do you really want her out in the field if she is pregnant? She could be shot again, or attacked. When we enter a scene there is always a danger, do you really want to risk that something might happen to her and her unborn child."

"You are talking about it like it is a forgone conclusion…"

"As her supervisor it is your responsibility to find out for sure." Catherine stood up, and crossed her arms in front of her.

"She's right…"

Grissom rolled his eyes, and shot a scathing glance at the man standing in his doorway. "Conrad… Nice of you to stop by and eavesdrop…" He intoned darkly.

"I was on my way to find out if you have talked to the Dentons, yet. When I just happened to over hear what Catherine was saying and she is right. In fact, I can assure you that without being tested and suspecting that she might be pregnant, she will not be allowed back to work, until we have a conclusive result."

Gil Grissom glowered at the two people across from him and just shook his head. "Denton's parents have been notified and I'll take care of Sara." The words were spat out like they were decaying food.

"Good." Ecklie turned on his heel and stomped off down the hall.

"Sorry…" Catherine watched the man disappear down the corridor and then turned back to her old friend. "But it really is what's best for Sara." With that she turned on her heel and took off towards the file room. She didn't hear the clatter of metal on glass, as his mail opener flew across the room and bounced angrily off of one of the larger specimen jars nestled there.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

JUST A NOTE: I am of to LV and LA for ten days - but I will be updating regularly regardless. :o)

**Chapter 11**

_**LV Crime Lab**_

**_August 23, 7 am_**

"Doc…" The room was silent except for the whirring of the coolers emanating from the refrigerated drawers. Al Robbins hadn't been kidding, the night shift supervisor mused, as he noted the overflow of bodies stacked up beside the cubicles.

"Over here, Gil… You bitch!" The man announced loudly.

Following the sound of the Coroner's voice and the expletives he was uttering, Grissom moved past the corpses into an alcove, where his friend was busy struggling with a locked prosthetic knee. Pissed off the Doc Robbins had resorted to whacking it with his cane, and grinned when he heard a satisfying click from the offending item.

Gil smirked slightly and waited until the Coroner had gotten to his feet. "Are they all from the pile up?" He threw a finger over his shoulder towards the rooms other more subdued occupants.

"No..." Al Robbins hobbled past Grissom and back out into the main room. "Strip club fire over on Vermont. Mid afternoon so not too many customers, but enough to have me wading in cadavers, lucky for you, days caught it." He lifted a sheet off of one of the charred victims. "So what can I do for you?"

"I have a question."

"Shoot." The man grabbed the body by the arm and shifted it slightly to look at the ring on the left finger. "Married…" He said sadly to himself.

"The symptoms I called you about last night." Grissom frowned slightly at the meaty smell of cooked human.

"Sara's…?" Pulling the ring off along with some of the charred flesh, he dropped it into a plastic bindle, and placed it beside the man on the stretcher.

"Yeah..."

The Coroner stopped what he was doing and gazed up at his friend. "How is she doing?"

"No better, according to Catherine. Nick is over there now."

"Poor girl…" He shook his head, and noticed a flash of gold around the victim's neck. "They were a cute couple." Reaching a gloved hand in, he shifted the man's head to one side and unlatched the chain that had been seared into his flesh. A soft tug freed it from his throat; Robbins dropped it into a bindle as well. So engrossed in his task, was the Coroner that didn't notice the fleeting look of pain that crossed Gil Grissom's face.

"Doc…" The younger man waited until he had the ME's full attention. Pale blue eyes stared up at him. "Do you think Sara could be pregnant?"

The older man's mouth opened, closed and then opened again. After thinking on it a moment, he cocked his head. "Well you know how babies are made Gil, you tell me." He shrugged. "I assume they were having sex."

Perturbed, Grissom squinted at his friend. "That's not what I meant." He said pointedly. "The symptomology…"

Al Robbins pulled aside the fabric that had melted onto the victim's skin, revealing a small ring attached to one burnt nipple. He struggled with it for a moment and after realizing that the metal was probably fused. Giving it a quick tug and watching as it popped away from the burnt skin with ease. "How bad is her nausea?"

"Very bad. She can't keep anything down and she's dry heaving."

"Well it sounds a little severe for morning sickness, but some women do get it pretty brutally. I've known women who've not been able to keep anything down for their entire pregnancy, mind you those women are unusual cases. It's suggested that they may actually have an allergy to their own hormones, hence the severe reaction. Refresh me, what were her other symptoms?"

"Vertigo, weakness, rapid heartbeat, she was cold and clammy and it took her almost half an hour to warm up when I was with her earlier tonight…"

Retrieving his crutch from its place up against the metal table Robbins slipped the cuff around his forearm and made his way over to his supply cupboard. "Well all of those things can be symptomatic of pregnancy. Every woman's body responds differently, but they could also be indicative of a variety of other things too." He reached into an overhead cupboard, shuffled some boxes around, obviously searching for something. "There is only one way to know for sure. Ah hah…" He let out cry of satisfaction and pulled out his prize; a ten dollar pregnancy test kit. "Is get her to take a test." He passed it to his friend who stared at it wide eyed.

"That's what Ecklie said."

"He's right. Something like this has a direct bearing on her job. The work you do is dangerous at the best of times, but to a pregnant woman…" His expression grave, as he shook his head.

Gil Grissom closed his eyes against the upcoming task and the painful headache thinking about it was causing him. He didn't want her to be pregnant with another man's baby. He didn't want to think about her and Luke as lovers. He didn't want there to be anything that would make her leave work, him, and possibly Las Vegas, but this wasn't about his wants. Sighing, he admitted that this was about Sara and the possibility of another life growing inside her. Whether he liked it or not his actions or inaction would have a direct bearing on it.

"Thanks Doc." He stopped when he reached the door, remembering the ME's offer to drop into Sara's place on the way home. "Would you mind still coming by later?"

"No… not at all. Leave her address in my box. I'll be there around nine. "

"Thanks again."

"Hey Gil..."

"Yeah...?"

"For the sake of elimination, it would help if she's taken the test by the time I get there."

Gil Grissom nodded silently and made his way back out of the morgue, a lead ball sitting in the pit of his stomach.

_**Ecklie's office**_

**_August 23, 7 am_**

Mayfield entered and closed the door a major look of concern plastered on his face. Ecklie, who had been in the process of catching up on paperwork looked up and grimaced at the man. "What do you want?" He inquired, his voice indicating in no uncertain terms that he didn't enjoy the interruption.

"We have a problem." Mayfield leaned against the file cabinet at the back of the room and eyed the report in his hands uneasily.

"Look, I haven't got all day so just tell me or get out."

"Our infrastructure, CODIS and compliance are down."

"I know I just got a panicked call from Wendy. A tech team from IT has been called in, In the mean time there's nothing we can do."

"Did Wendy tell you she was working the DNA from the Maran case? The rape that I was processing? Did she also tell you whose name it kicked out before it crashed?"

Conrad Ecklie crossed his hands and leaned into the desk in front of him. "No, but you had better within the next 10 seconds or you'll be working decomps and dismemberments for the next 6 months. I don't have time for your games."

Irked, the tall gangly CSI moved forward and tossed the report on the desk. The son-of-a-bitch could damn well read it for himself then. Mayfield noticed thegrimace on the assistant director's face after a moment of perusal. At least now, Ecklie had his answer and all it implied.

"Have you confirmed this?"

"The system crashed before we could."

Flipping the top sheet down, Ecklie absorbed the information that AFIS had provided and decided on a plan of action. "Who is working the Maran case with you?"

"Greg Sanders."

"Isn't he into his third shift?"

"Yes we both are."

"Send him home. I will work it with you instead." Rereading the report from AFIS he held it up. "This is confirmed, right?"

Mayfield just nodded his shaggy, mouse colored hair dancing around his face.

"Okay, we'll head over to this guy's house with a few cadets and see what we can dig up. Our first visit there turned up nothing probative, but then we were there on a different matter." Picking up the phone beside him he hit speed dial. "I have to call the under sheriff we're going to need to change detectives on this, too."

_**LV Crime Lab**_

**_August 23, 8:15 am_**

Archie gaped at the screen, his mouth open wide enough that you could comfortably fit a Mack truck in it. On the screen in front of him there was a couple, busy coupling at an odd angle up against a wall. He tilted his head to the side trying to figure out just how they were able to defy gravity in such away and still remain in full copulation mode. The whole scene was exhilarating and frankly more than a little arousing. The woman was a hot blonde with an exceptional body and was in the process of getting the shit fucked out of her. Her verbal cries of pleasure and the expletives, rolling out of her were a primal attestation to her utter enjoyment.

The demand, "deeper!" followed by a loud moan broke across the screen just as he paused it. For the first time in ten minutes, the calisthenics eased and he could gather what was potentially a good identifying shot. Using his mouse, he triangulated in on the faces of the twosome, most of his attention going into identifying the woman. He zoomed it, zoomed it again, before toggling the pixels. It was still grainy so he made another adjustment and then zoomed in once more. An instant later the face became readily identifiable and he literally fell out of his chair. In his time at the crime lab Archie had seen many bizarre things, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Snatching the pen beside him he wrote down the name of the woman he had just identified, Catherine Willows… Then fast forwarded the DVD, to the next encounter, his heart still thudding in his chest.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Hey folks, I am in Vegas! It is amazing, all the main hotels here are very LARGE SCALE. It has a tendency to make you feel very small. I can't imagine working in law enforcement in this city - it must be a nightmare. I am from Toronto and we have huge skyscrapers and a very large city, but this place for some reason manages to put everything into perspective.

Anyway, we're done our time here - shopping like crazy today then off to LA. I will try to post again asap - I know I left everyone confused with the last chapter - but believe me it all will be explained. I hope you enjoy this one, as it is quite long! 

**Disclaimer: **see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 12**

_**Sara's apartment**_

**_August 23, 8:30 am_**

There was a definite crick in Nick Stoke's neck, sleeping on Sara's chair had been a terrible idea. He was sure that his spinal column would never be the same again. In fact, as he stood up, it let out a very loud crunch causing numbness, followed by pain, to shoot up and down his vertebral column. "Damn…" He bent over to touch his toes and stretch out the sleeping muscles of his back and found that straightening back up was an effort tantamount to bull riding. "Double damn…"

"Nick? What are you doing?" Gil Grissom's low voice broke the serenity of the room making the young CSI jump and causing another huff of pain.

"Man, you have got to stop sneaking up on people." He massaged his legs and finally drew himself upright. "I was just trying to regain some feeling in the rest of my body... I slept in the chair." Glancing at the light seeping through the dark curtains, he peered down at his watch, but it was a little to dark to see it. "Hey… what time is it?"

"After 8…"

"Damn, I slept through..." He looked at Sara and leaned over to wake her.

"You didn't give her pain meds, Nick?" His hands were on his hips now and condemnation was beginning to edge his voice.

"She probably wouldn't have taken them, anyway." He pointed to the bucket beside the chair. "She threw up the last ones and when I offered her more she said no; she wasn't in any real pain." His hand went to her face and he gently brushed away the curls scattered across it. "Hey, sweet pea… Wakey, wakey…"

She moaned softly and then jumped when a loud buzz permeated the sleepy quiet of her apartment.

"Whoa…" Nick grabbed her hand in an attempt to chase away the fear and confusion in her eyes. "Just the intercom…" He announced and released her fingers. "I'll get it." He turned and moved past Grissom; carefully avoiding the scowl that he knew was directed at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Sara looked up into two tired blue eyes and slumped back into bed, her body trembling slightly. "I'm… okay…" She pulled her own eyes away; her hands moving nervously through her dark strands.

She was lying. He could tell by the pasty hue of her skin and the lethargy of her reply, that she was still feeling as bad; if not worse than she had before. "Nick said you threw up your pills...?"

"Mmmm…" She nodded dully.

"You missed the last dosage. Do you want some now?" Gil Grissom moved over to the bed and dropped onto the edge, the warmth of his palm immediately enveloping hers.

"No…"

"Are you still dizzy?" His free hand slipped below her chin and he lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Yeah..."

"And the nausea..?"

"Still here; like a spiteful friend who won't go away." Sara closed her eyes against his penetrating gaze and grinned tightly

"Chills...?"

His thumb brushed against her jaw, causing a glimmer of warmth to drift through her. "They come and go." Any energy she had felt upon waking had ebbed away.

"Are you in pain?" Grissom's subconscious was urging him to pull her into his arms and just hold her; grudgingly he fought it with every fiber of his being.

"Nominal…" She lied again. "I have a headache. I'm achy around my stitches, and I feel a little stiff."

"Big flowers…" Nick announced re-entering the darkened room, with a huge bouquet of mixed flora in an oversized Mexican vase. He placed the bulky item on the bedside table next to the lamp and flicked it on. "There's a card…" He dug around and pulled the pale green envelope from where it was nestled inside the stems. His eyes dropped to the man perched on the bed, his thick hand tightly clasped around Sara's smaller one. It felt a little like he was interrupting an intimate moment, but he pressed on passing the card to the slim brunette.

She waved it off. "Whenever I try to focus the vertigo gets worse. Just read it to me."

This was a big mistake.

Nick flipped open the envelope, clearly not paying attention to the words at first. "Dearest Sara. Sorry to hear about your loss, hope you feel better soon. Then maybe we can get down to some serious business. You, me, a shower stall, and some heavy duty lather…. What the hell…" The look on Nick Stokes face would have been priceless if the note itself hadn't wrought such a thoroughly freaked reaction from the young woman it was addressed to.

Gil Grissom snatched it from the younger CSI's grip and stared at the name scrawled across bottom of it; trying to make out the signature. Something about it looked acutely familiar.

Sara Sidle's mouth had dropped open and she was leaning up against her headboard one quivering hand splayed out across her forehead. "Oh my god…" She managed to spit out, embarrassment coloring her face.

"Is that a B?" The older man pointed to the first letter of the first name, and squinted at the rest.

"Boss, I think it says Blain Wilson…"

"As in Judge Blain Wilson…?" Accusing blue eyes impaled the young woman on the bed.

A low whistle escaped Nick Stoke's mouth and he could feel the tension in the room rise. "A judge…" He took the card back from his boss and read it again.

"No…" Sara shook her head. "I mean yes…" She closed her eyes against the inertia roiling though her, and the allegation in Grissom's cobalt orbs. "It's him, but no, it's not what you think…"

"Okay…" Gil Grissom's voice had taken on a timbre of impassiveness. Sara had heard it before; always in a situation where he was trying to maintain tight control over certain negative emotions. It also suggested that there better be a good explanation forthcoming.

Sucking in a deep breath, she crossed her arms, shoved her shaking hands beneath her elbows and well out of view. "Before Luke, he, ah… he asked me out." She shook her head and scowled. "Actually, that's not right. He made me a rather crude offer that had something to do with he, and I in a shower, and lots of suds… I made a joke of it and told him, no, my bathroom was being renovated." She pointed to a closed door at the other end of the room. "That one is."

Nick's eyebrows drew together in an angry frown. "Well this is in poor taste." He held up the card. "And his behavior is completely inappropriate for an officer of the court."

"Yeah… well…" Sara let out a resigned shrug. "Worse things have happened in my life than being crudely propositioned by an attractive man, Judge or not."

Trying to read her comment, the older man squinted at her, and then frowned. "The Sara I know wouldn't have taken that kind of harassment from him, unless she was interested. You know, dating him would be a really bad choice." He reminded her. "There would be a lot of legal ramifications; your integrity would be questioned every time you took the stand in his courtroom."

Sara's mouth dropped at his implication, anger infusing her words. "What do you want from me? I told him no." She shuddered in irritation. "And for your information, the Sara _you know_ was going to rip his testicles off and shove them down his throat, but in the interest of justice – not mine – but the families of the victims I represent. I made light of it." Antagonized beyond belief, the young CSI was overcome by a burst of energy that had her on her feet and out of bed before either of the two men in the room could blink.

The trembling brunette made it five feet out of her room before she was overcome by a blinding wave of vertigo and just made it to the couch before she found herself flat on the floor. Hyperventilating and fighting back the heaves that had been plaguing her; she leaned back and rested her head solidly against the soft cushions.

Grissom held his hand up against the look of utter disgust from the man standing beside him and then stalked out into the main room. He wasn't sure what, if anything, he was going to say to her. He knew he had been way out of line, but his emotions; nay his jealousy had gotten the best of him. _Judge Wilson_… The thought turned his stomach. Aside from being closer to Sara's age, Blain Wilson was an extremely attractive man. This was a fact, that for a lot of women, helped ease the reality that he was a total jackass.

Nick tossed the card on the bedside table, followed him out and then spying Sara's choice of attire, let out a loose snort.

Sara squinted up at him with one dark orb and then down at where his eyes had fallen. A small smile spread across her face. "Don't even go there, Nicky. If you tell anyone about my pink Hello Kitty pajamas, everyone at the lab will know about your SpongeBob boxers…" Pointedly ignoring Grissom, she threatened her friend playfully.

"Oh…" His hand went to his chest like she'd stabbed him in the heart. "But _I _didn't actually buy 'em."

The slender brunette smirked through the slow spinning of her head. "Yeah, they may have been a gift from an old girlfriend, but you still wear them."

"Only when all my normal ones are dirty..."

Sara Sidle actually laughed a little at that. An, "_euww…_" fell from of her pale lips, as she leaned further in to the soft pillows of her couch, and closed her eyes against the deep churn of nausea in her belly.

Grissom's heart beat a little faster at the sound of her giggle. His only regret was that he hadn't been the one to draw it out of her. He didn't even want to think about how she knew what kind of boxers, Nick Stokes wore. That would just serve to bring in another surge of jealousy, and possibly damage his relationship with the younger man.

Taking in the small brown bag on the counter, Nick moved over to it and snatched it up, hoping it contained something edible. "Hey Boss, what's in here?" Peeking inside, the handsome Texan flushed and immediately dropped it back on the counter, his eyebrows shooting upward. He looked at his supervisor questioningly. "Uh… I think that I'll grab something on the way home…" Moving over to where the slim brunette was now supine on the couch, he leaned in and dropped a friendly kiss on her forehead. "You take care, peanut… and take those pain meds if you need 'em."

Sara simply grinned and didn't even bother to open her eyes. "Bye…" She said weakly.

Casting a warm glance at her he took in the dark shadows under her eyes and the glossy sheen of sweat that had just appeared on her forehead.

She shivered minutely, so before leaving he grabbed the folded throw she had stored in a basket at the side of one chair and covered her carefully. Then he tossed a strained look at his supervisor and absorbed the pensive look that was plastered on the man's face. Pointing his chin towards the door he indicated that he wanted to talk to Grissom on the other side of it.

The older man nodded and followed him out. Leaving the door slightly ajar Gil Grissom pulled his glasses off and rubbed his weary eyes.

Nick moved a little down the hallway, just far enough that she wouldn't be able to hear them and placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips tightly and then looked down at his shoes. "Is that…" He pointed back towards the door. "Really necessary…?"

A heavy sigh curled the length of the hallway. "Unfortunately..."

"You know, man she's been through a lot. I mean. If she is ah…" He swallowed bitterly. "Pregnant… that… that's like just adding to it in a big way… Can't you let her recover a little… before making her face something like that?"

Gil Grissom shook his head. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't even bring it up, but it was Catherine who came up with the idea, and unfortunately Ecklie overheard the conversation. Now he's insisting… proof positive or she won't be allowed to return to work." Rubbing away the anguish in his own eyes, he grimaced. "And as much as I don't like it, he has a point. She's rail thin, that would put her very early into a pregnancy and the first trimester is developmentally imperative. Some of the stuff we handle in the lab could have serious ramifications…" He massaged away the growing ache in his head. "I just… I don't know Nick. My hands are tied."

"Well hell. Ecklie's an asshole." He swatted at the air angrily. "I mean she could just be sick from the whack on the head, no?"

"At this point it's not likely, I talked to Doc, he seems to think it's unusual for her to be this ill."

Nick was quiet a moment. "I could marry her..."

Grissom was caught completely off guard. His eyes widened in disbelief at the younger man's suggestion and he almost gagged on the word that fell out of his mouth. "What?"

"Well, I mean… Sara's amazing, she loves her work, and it would be really hard for her to have a baby and keep her job, without someone. I could. I mean she and I could…"

Grissom drew his hand across his mouth and tried to gather his scattered thoughts. "Do you love her?" The ambivalence was clear in his voice. He couldn't figure whether the young man was truly in love with her, or just yielding to some valiant sense of honor. The former would make things seriously complicated.

"Yeah…" He threw his arms up. "I mean I'm not in love with her, but I love her like a friend. You know some of the best relationships are based on friendship." His hands slid to his waist and he rested them there trying to read the emotions playing across his supervisor's face. "I mean, my mom and dad, they were friends all the way from elementary school. In high school, and college they dated other people. It wasn't until my dad's second year in college that he and my mom finally started seeing each other. They were married at the end of that summer and the twins were born 10 months later. They've been married for 42 years. "

"Wait…" The older man held up his hand, the tremor in his voice betraying how truly flustered he was. "I'm sure she would appreciate the offer, but even if she is, Sara might not even keep it. She does have choices, you know."

"An abortion…? Sara…?" He laughed. "Not likely, man. She respects life too much. I mean she always says she wouldn't know what to do with a kid, but you haven't seen her face when she talks about having them. She's scared, but she would be a great mom."

Grissom shuddered; he'd never come close to anything that could be described as freaking out, but he imagined that it would feel much like the mess going on inside his head and heart at the moment. "We're getting way ahead of ourselves here." He said trying to dissuade the younger man. "There's a very good chance she's not pregnant, so don't buy that engagement ring just yet. Okay…?" He ran his hand over his face roughly trying to shake the vision of Nick and Sara as a couple out of his head. "First I have to get her to take the test."

"Right, okay…If you want I could pee on the dipstick for her? If it would buy her more time…?"

"I could have done the same, but what would that accomplish? It would only prolong the inevitable, and wouldn't change the real outcome."

Thick fingers made their way through his short brown hair. "Well shit!"

"You could help me out though…"

"Sure boss, anything."

It pained him to admit it. "Well, she seems to respond to you better than she does me." Grissom shook his head and ran his hand down his face. "I never know what to say; everything I say seems to upset her. Maybe you could…"

Nick's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Anything, but that Boss. I have five sisters and all of 'em have been pregnant at least once. I've heard my brother in-laws talk, that is a dangerous situation for any man."

The older man almost grinned at that. "Coward…"

"Hell yeah… I want to have kids some day. An angry andhormonally unbalanced Sara is not someone I want to tangle with." Nick turned to leave. "You know my brother in-law Jimmy; well my sister had a tantrum one day… I think she was like 6 months along. She grabbed 'em man and almost twisted 'em off…" Both men winced at this.

"Sorry, Boss, but yer on your own... Just be sure to stand far away when you ask her." With that, Nick Stokes left.

Glancing down at his watch Gil Grissom realized that he had very little time before Doc Robbins would arrive. Running his hand along his beard, he turned and re-entered the apartment.

Sara was exactly where they'd left her sprawled on the couch shivering under a blanket. Grabbing the bag off of the counter, he approached her with exaggerated caution and placed it on the floor beside the leather bench; all the while trying to forget Nick's offer.

"Hey…" Grissom sat on the ottoman in front of his charge. Reaching out he took one slim hand in his, only to have it pulled immediately away and slipped under the blanket. This drew a loud sigh of frustration from him. He was angry at himself. He shouldn't have judged her the way he had earlier, now the only thing to do would be claim brain death and apologize. "Listen Sara, I know I owe you an apology." He said calmly, his intent to sooth.

"Damn straight." Her voice was laced with fatigue and anger. The quivering brunette didn't even bother to open her eyes. She knew if she did, she'd be more inclined to forgive him for his earlier words. It just always worked that way; she would look into his baby blues, and he would perpetuate his Grissom voodoo on her. Despite all that had transpired, he still held some inexplicable power over her. "Have I ever done anything on a personal level that interfered with my job or any case I was working on?" She didn't give him an opportunity to respond. "Have I ever dated a suspect? Ran an unauthorized DNA check for own personal gain? Left a newbie alone to be shot at a scene? Been implicated in a murder? Blown up the lab…?" On a roll, Sara opened her eyes and propped herself up.

Grissom moved back a little further on the ottoman, and shook his head slowly. "No."

"Do you know how many times I get propositioned a week?"

Grissom's mouth dropped. "Uh no…"

Incensed, Sara shook her head. "Don't look so surprised. God, I hope I'm not that hideous."

"Sara you're not hideous at all. You're…"

She waved him off. "Forget it… My point is. On a good week when the stars are properly aligned, I get 2-3 offers. On a bad week, when every horn dog on the planet thinks its open season on any breathing female in existence, I get propositioned maybe 10-20 times. We're talking Doctors, lawyers, cops, club owners, EMT guys, construction workers, suspects, family of suspects and victims. I have even been hit on by women." She leveled him with an angry look. "Do you know how many times I've said yes?"

Grissom shook his head solemnly, not sure he wanted to know the answer, or that his heart would be able to take it.

"Never… Not once. Well except for Hank, and that started out as just a friendship kinda' thing." She stood up rapidly her footing unsure. "So I resent that you questioned my integrity, particularly in front of Nick. It hurts to think that you have that little trust in me. Especially, since I've never given you reason to doubt me. And we both know that this isn't the first time is it? Didn't I almost leave for the very same reasons?" Haltingly, she made to leave, nudging his feet out of the way with one bare foot. A flash of dizziness forced her to grasp the arm of the couch to for support. "God, even after all these years, you still don't respect me Grissom."

"Sara." He was beside her instantly, a warm steady arm wrapping around her waist and easing her back onto the couch.

"Don't." The young woman shook her head and dropped it into her hands. "Just forget it, okay..."

"I can't." Frustration laced the older man's voice. "I feel like every time I open my mouth I hurt you, or make you angry, or say something inanely stupid." A tentative hand came up and brushed aside her curls, he marveled at the silkiness of them for a moment and then bent his head in so that he could see her profile. "I am a 50 year old man and I swear, Sara, I have never been as tongue tied around any person, in my life as I am around you."

"Stop that…" Her words quivered.

"Stop what?" He asked, his palm resting on her shoulder, his fingers absently tracing delicate circles on the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Stop making it so damn hard to be mad at you. I'm at a serious disadvantage here. I'm too sick and too tired remain upset for long, as it is, and then… then you say something so intimately out of character and manage to pop my anger bubble completely." She scowled at him.

He grinned at this. "So now you're mad at me, because you can't stay mad at me?"

"Yes…" She pouted, a shiver wracking her thin body.

Concern flashed across his face, wiping away the lightheartedness of the moment. "You need to get back into bed, but first I need you to do something for me." It was now or never. Doc Robbins was due any minute.

She twisted her head to the side and took in the expression on his tanned face. It was difficult to read, but she thought for sure there was almost fear reflected in his eyes. Warily, she drew in a stiff breath and then expelled a tense, "What?"

Reaching over her snatched the brown bag off the floor. "When Catherine came to see me this morning, she was really concerned. She thought, as I did, that there might be something more to the way you're feeling, than just a concussion and recovery from your injuries."

"Alright…" Sara's reply was guarded.

"Well… She said she thought that I should get you to…" He shifted away from her a little and apprehensively played with the lip of the bag. "There is no easy way to ask you to do this." He passed her the bag and stood up, heeding Nick Stokes' earlier warning.

Falteringly, she opened the bag and her jaw dropped in amazement. "You have got to be kidding me!" If looks could kill Gil Grissom would already have been on a slab at the morgue. "How dare you?" Hurt replaced the fury in her eyes, momentarily.

"Sara…" He wanted to approach her, but the look on her face told him it was safest for him to stand back and his instinct for survival heeded the warning. "You need to take the test."

"No way…"

"Sara, you have to." His words were soft and meant to pacify.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I am _not_ pregnant." Anger lit up her whole face.

"How can you be sure? Sara you were sleep..."

"I am _NOT_ discussing my sex life with you!" She spat the words at him, then tossing the bag onto the ottoman, the slim brunette wobbled to her feet. "And you can't make me."

"You're right. It's your body. I can't make you take it and if it were up to me I wouldn't even have brought it up." His concern for her over shadowed his survival instinct and he reached out a steadying hand, only to have her try to shake it off.

"It _is_ up to you… And I am not pregnant." As much as she didn't want him to touch her, the vertigo hadn't gotten any better. When he grasped her elbow, she tried to pull away only to reach out and grab him for support immediately after he let go. A tense growl of anger escaped her lips.

"Sara accidents happen…" He slipped a supporting arm around her waist, and pulled her to him.

"Not to me. You are just going to have to trust that I am not." She was leaning heavily on him now and hating herself for it.

"I do trust you." He slipped his free hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "But I need you to take the test. Ecklie overheard Catherine and I talking, he's insisting that you give him a conclusive result before coming back to work."

Tears were clouding her eyes, and she shook her head in the process pulling her face away from his touch. "I can't believe this. He has no right."

"Actually, he does, Sara there are liability issues, not to mention dangers in working in the lab if you are pregnant." He reached down and snatched the bag from where she'd thrown it.

"I'm not. Dammit." Her voice was quiet, but woven with resignation.

"Then prove it, honey. Take the test and I'll personally shove it down his throat."

A huff of resentment escaped her mouth and she tore the bag from his hand. "This isn't fair."

She made to head into the washroom on her own, but he pulled her back to him, and held her tightly. "Let me help you."

Aggravated she hissed at him. "How…? Are you going to hold the dipstick while I pee on it?" Lurching away from him she shuffled unsteadily to the washroom.

Grissom watched anxiously, as she slammed the door behind her. He finally let out the tense breath he had been holding. For the first time in a long time the normally composed entomologist, realized that he desperately desired a drink; something strong with the ability to numb his mind and allow him to bask in obliviousness for a while. This was not to happen. The intercom took just that second to announce Doc Robbins' arrival.

The door was standing open when the Coroner arrived. Gil Grissom was rummaging in the fridge looking for something that would quench his present thirst. He pulled out a jug of green tea. It would not provide the solace that the alcohol would, but hopefully there was enough caffeine in it to provide a slight buzz.

"Hello Gil..." Robbins trundled in and dropped his satchel on the counter. He took in his surroundings a moment and then watched as his friend poured himself a tall glass of clear yellowish tea.

"You want some?"

The older man shook his head. "Nah, Judy will have dinner for me when I get home. It will include a cold beer."

"I'm jealous." Grissom held up the tea.

"I gather you need a drink…"

"The stronger the better..." The nightshift supervisor admitted. "Do you know Nicky offered to marry her if she's pregnant?"

"They'd make a nice couple. What did she say?"

"He didn't ask her, he ran it by me." He stared into the glass, all of the neurons in his head synapsing at a light-speed.

Al Robbins' nodded, his eyes raking the apartment once again, this time in search of a pretty brunette. "So where is our patient?"

"The bathroom…"

"Oh…" The coroner rubbed his beard. "How did she take it?"

"She's mad, hurt, you name it." He took a swig and grimaced. Clearly, it was an acquired taste. "It's my fault as usual."

Noting the self-deprecation in his friend's voice, Robbins realized something that others who worked closely with him may have known for a while. Gil Grissom's feelings for his coworker appeared to go beyond a work related interest. "She'll forgive you."

"Maybe, but at some point I think her patience will wear out." He looked at his empty glass dejectedly; there evidently wasn't enough caffeine in it.

"Grissom…" Sara's fatigued voice abruptly ended their conversation.

He checked his watch she'd been in the washroom for almost 10 minutes. Approaching the door he stopped in front of it and knocked. "I'm here."

The door opened and he was immediately hit in the head with the empty packaging, then it slammed shut again. Massaging his scalp where the sharp end of the box had hit him, he bent over and scooped it up, as Robbins let out an amused guffaw. "It may take a while for her to forgive you, though."

"Ya think?" Grissom replied sarcastically.

"I need you to read me the instructions…" The defeat in her voice was evident even from the other side of the door. "They keep moving."

"Oh…" He reached inside the package and pulled out the paper that was balled up and stuffed into it.

At this point Doc Robbins moved up to the door. "Sara… Do you have a paper cup in there?"

"Dixie cup…?" She offered.

"Okay… Take a midstream. Dip the dipstick for ten seconds and then wait three minutes."

There was silence for a minute or so, then the sound of a flush followed by water running. A second later the door flew open and Sara emerged clutching the frame for support. "I'm going to bed." She informed the two men.

"Your three minutes aren't up yet." Al Robbins looked at her studying the almost gray pallor of her face.

"It's on the counter in there. I don't need to wait. I'm not pregnant." With that, she made her way back to her bedroom one slim arm supporting her as she moved carefully along the wall.

The older man followed the young CSI into her room and watched as she moved slowly onto the bed. Out in the main room, Gil Grissom squelched the panicky sensation in his stomach and ambled into the bathroom. Casting a glance at his watch he realized that the time was up. So like a man facing the gallows, he reached out and picked up the clear baggy she'd stored the dipstick in. An almost palpable sense of relief washed over him, as his eyes fell on the straight bar indicating negative.

By the time he'd made it to her room, Doc Robbins was perched on the side of Sara's bed and was actively involved in examining her. The two of them turned as Grissom entered and leaned up against the door frame.

"What say you, Dr. Grissom?" Robbins turned to the younger man.

He held up the baggy and waved it at them before slipping it into his pants pocket. "She's right. It's a negative." He delivered the news with little emotion despite the fact that his heart was doing a happy dance. A caustic, I told you so, was written all over Sara Sidle's face, but nothing came from her mouth.

"Good…" The coroner reached into his bag and drew out a stethoscope. "It's been a while since I've had need to use one of these." He placed his hand over the chest piece to warm it, and asked Sara to lay back. A moment later he slipped it up under her track top and held it over her left breast, then nodding; he indicated that the young woman should move forward. When she complied he quickly slipped the chest piece up her back and listened closely. "Have you had any trouble breathing?"

Sara dipped her head, noting that as she did so her vertigo increased. "A little, mostly my chest just feels heavy."

Grabbing a flashlight from his bag, he trained it on her lips. "Hey Gil..." The younger man came up behind the doctor, and leaned into get a closer look at what his friend was seeing. "Do her lips look a little swollen to you?"

Sara's hand moved up to her mouth, only to have it pulled away by Robbins.

"A little…" Grissom replied, taking in the puffy pout on his young colleague's face, and trying greatly to keep his observations strictly clinical.

Having taken a moment to check her pupil reaction time, the Coroner dropped the flashlight back into the bag, and pulled out a BP cuff. The shaking brunette shoved her sleeve up her arm and waited as it was wrapped around her upper arm. Within a minute he had returned his equipment to the bag; noting that her blood pressure was on the low side.

"Well…" The older man smiled at her and took her hand in his. "We have two options. The first being, you picked up some sort of an infection in the hospital. It's usually a place we go to get better, but often times that's not the case. In fact, it's always best to spend a minimum amount of time in one, since most of the people there are sick and while the staff does their best not to cross contaminate and spread germs; humans are fallible." He reached into his satchel, retrieved a thermometer and slipped the gauge into Sara's ear.

"Thanks for solidifying my faith in our medical facilities." She commented dryly.

Robbins let out a short chuckle. "Have you been febrile at all?"

"I've had the chills and hot flashes."

"But not a steady running temperature…?" He removed the device from her ear and took in the flashing number on the screen. Out of the corner of his eye observed, as the woman in front of him began scratching her stomach through her shirt.

"No… I mean, not that I know of, but I've spent most of the last 36 hours with my head on a pillow, so I'm not sure."

"What are you doing?" He indicated Sara's hand.

The slim brunette looked down at the unconscious action. "Uh… I'm itchy."

"May I?" The older man indicated her shirt and slid it up when he got a nod of affirmation. "Well this leads us to option two…" He indicated the clusters of red welts beginning to form on the pale expanse of the young woman's flat belly. "This is indicative of an allergic reaction."

The trembling CSI stared down at the hives and moaned.

"I'm thinking it's a drug allergy. What have you had to eat or drink in the last 48 hours?"

Sara laughed weakly. "Tuesday morning after shift, I had a mushroom omelet and a glass of orange juice."

"And…?"

"That's it. I didn't have time to eat before I got called in for the swing roll out, and since then I've been either in the hospital or too sick to keep anything down." Sara Sidle's eyes closed, as her world continued to spin.

"You need to eat."

"Tell my body that. It isn't listening to me." Slender fingers came up to massage her forehead.

"Is this your prescription from the hospital?" He scooped up the bottle on the bedside table and silently read the name.

"Yes…" It was Gil Grissom who answered.

"This is pretty strong stuff, Doctors usually only provide a prescription for Tylenol #3's, but these are 4's and have double the codeine in them." He held the bottle up for the other man to see." He turned to Sara. "Do you know if you are allergic to codeine?"

The young CSI was silent for a minute and then she shook her head. "When I was younger my parents looked after all that. Since then, I've only ever needed serious p-pain medication once." Sara stammered at the memory of the circumstance that had landed her in the hospital in the first place.

"When was that?"

She was a little reluctant to answer at first, a fact that was not lost on Grissom. "I was 15. I ended up in the hospital with my arm broken in three places. I was in there for almost a month, but I think the drug of choice, at that time, was Morphine."

"Are you sure?"

"No. I just remember them discussing that they should be careful because the stuff they were giving me was highly addictive."

"Codeine is addictive, too."

"Then I don't know." Her words were laced with exhaustion.

"Can you call one of your parents and ask them if you have a codeine allergy?" Al Robbins suggested.

Grissom cast a pained look her way. The story she'd told him of her family life six months previous was still excruciatingly fresh in his mind.

Diverting her eyes from both men, Sara gave a negative shake of her head. "My father is dead. I can get in touch with my mom if I have to, but that will take a while. My brother Evan might know..." She said almost to herself. "But he's hard to reach, as well."

"I'm going to go with an educated guess, then, but if you can, try and ask your mother or brother at some point."

He had no idea what he was asking. Dark brown eyes studied the Coroner a moment and then closed. "Sure Doc."

"Now, common side-effects of codeine include dizziness, nausea, vomiting, flushing and drowsiness. People think that they are allergic to the drug because of the symptomology, when in fact they aren't. A true allergic reaction is actually more subtle. This includes difficulty breathing, a decreased blood pressure, swelling of the lips, and hives. Sound familiar...?"

Sara simply moaned; her heavy lidded eyes were refusing to stay open.

"Are you on any other medication?" The older man watched as the skinny brunette's face flushed.

"I have a patch." Her hand moved in the general direction of her hip.

"Birth control I assume." Al Robbins grinned faintly at her.

"Yes. It was originally for regulation purposes only, but my OB/GYN suggested I take a full dose patch, anyway. Since I'm single and presumably, sexually active."

"How long have you been on it..?"

"Three or four years…"

"Well that's a non issue, then."

"I had some Gravol a few hours ago."

"That was after this all began. Did it help?"

"A little…" Dread sat in her throat. She already knew the next question and she also knew she didn't want to answer it.

"Anything else…?" The older man asked, despite the fact that he pretty much believed he'd already found the culprit.

Sara forced her eyes open and studied his face pensively before reaching over and pulling open the bedside table. An accurate diagnosis depended on honesty, she told herself, at the same time swallowing down the panic sitting in her chest. Thrusting her shaking hand into the drawer she removed a small stack of papers very similar to the one that Monty had dropped off with the Tylenol.

Doc Robbins read the drug name on each compiling a list in his head. The elderly coroner was floored to the point of speechlessness. He captured and held the pretty brunette's gaze, at the same time reading her tightly controlled expression. There was fear and pain in there, both masked by a silent plea.

"Gil." He turned to the man behind him and quickly folded the papers over. "Can I ask you to leave us alone for a moment?"

Baffled, the entomologist wanted to argue, but knew he really had no right, so he gave a curt nod and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Holding out the sheets, Doc Robbins leveled her with a gaze. "Care to explain these?"

The tremulous woman shook her head. "No."

"Sara…"

She cut him off. "Please Doc, just review them for their side-effects and see if they could be causing all of this?"

"Sara, you need to…"

"No. Please just leave it. I know all of this is something that I will have to deal with, but right now, I – I just don't have the strength. Please..." Her words trailed off amidst a flood of tears forming in her eyes.

Al Robbins pursed his lips. He should press the issue, all logical thought was pushing him to do so, but one look into the face of the clearly distraughtyoung woman sitting across from him and he knew he couldn't do it. Clearing his throat, he looked back down at the papers and then shook his head. "Any of these could cause the nausea and vomiting. The rest combined are pretty specific to the codeine. I really do think that's the culprit. How many of these have you taken?"

A tight smile of relief and gratitude spread across the young CSI's face. "One of them was a one dose. Another one is a monthly dose. The rest are daily, but I have only had the one of each because of the hospital and then the fact that I've been throwing up. I was going to take them some time today, if I can get my stomach to settle."

"Okay…" The older man nodded, a slew of questions swimming through his brain. The friend in him, wanted desperately to question her, he wanted details, a plan of action, something to do, as if he could do anything. But the doctor in him won, knowing that he could only suggest a plan of action and provide support and information, His duty lay in his acquiescence with the desires of the young woman sitting in front of him. "One dose is not likely to cause this kind of a reaction. I would say at this point you are allergic to codeine. This is something that has to be put in your file. You should also get a medic-alert bracelet and you should see an allergist if you can't get the information from family. How much of the Tylenol have you had?"

Sara shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure. Um… my babysitter out there might know." She reached out and gently took the papers from the older man's fist, flashing him a pained smile as she returned them to their place in the drawer.

"You can come back in." Doc Robbins reached out and reassuringly squeezed Sara Sidle's cool hand.

Gil Grissom had to have been standing immediately outside the door, since it seemed as though the older man didn't even get to finish the sentence before the bearded entomologist was back in the room and at the bedside. "Everything okay…?"

"Yup…" Doc Robbins' response was light, with no indication of the tension and concern Sara's list of meds had caused him. "I just need to know how much of this stuff she's taken."

It took a moment by while he mentally counted the doses. "Two at the hospital, two here at 9, two at 1, but I think that's the dose she threw up and she was supposed to have more at 4, but Nicky fell asleep and she didn't get it."

"So only two full dosages and whatever they gave her via IV at the hospital?" The graying Coroner confirmed.

"Yes… I think so."

"Well it doesn't sound like a lot, but were talking 120 mg each time. Plus who knows what amount they pumped into you before you were released." He compressed the young woman's hand lightly and then let it go. "Regardless, the antidote is simple; no more codeine. And despite what your body is telling you, and no matter how badly you hate throwing up, you need to take in fluids. Preferably something that has a nutrient base, but water is necessary, too. Codeine is cleared in the liver so to help make that process quicker I cannot stress enough that you need to drink; diluted juice, Pedialite, or something with electrolytes will help. Small, frequent sips, as opposed to a whole glass, which will probably come back up; if you do this, you should start to feel better in a few hours, though the residual effects may last a few days." With that Al Robbins' grabbed his crutch and struggled to his feet. "Okay?"

Sara nodded sleepily, and smiled. "Thanks Doc."

The older man patted her head like she was six and then snatched his bag up. "Take care… and I want to talk to when you get better…"

The slim brunette closed her eyes and simply nodded again as he left the room.

"Albert…" Gil Grissom followed him out into the living room and to the door.

Stopping beside the kitchen counter, the Coroner stared at his friend for a second waiting for the question he knew would be coming next.

"Is there anything I should know?"

It was a fair enough inquiry, but one that he was also compelled not to answer despite the anxiety in Grissom's eyes. "Yes. There is, but you know that I'm bound by privilege. Sorry." Clutching his bag with his crutch hand, he patted the younger man on the arm, turned and hauled the door open. Beating a hasty retreat down the hallway he put as much distance between the two of them in a little time as possible. He didn't want to be the subject of his friend's interrogation, nor did he want to allow him any added time to press the issue. "Take care of her and remember, push fluids." His voice trailed over his shoulder as he hit the elevator button.

The nightshift supervisor knew better than to inquire more, his colleague wouldn't be the person to give him the answers he needed. The only individual who could was as sick as dog in bed. "Thanks Al." He called after Robbins and watched as the man entered the lift and then shut the door.

Glancing at his watch Gil realized that almost an hour had passed. Heeding his friend's instructions he searched Sara's fridge, but this time looking for something considerably different. Thankfully, the young woman was a bit of a health nut. There were more than enough juices to choose from. Grabbing a carton of organic orange juice, he poured half of a glass and added another third of water. It would provide a lot of the nutrients she needed, and he knew that other than coffee or tea it was one of her favorite drinks.

"Sara…" He moved back into the room to find her already asleep. Dropping onto the bed beside her, he leaned over and caressed her face.

She let out a soft moan and her eyes fluttered open.

"I brought you some juice…" He positioned the glass on the night table and placing his hands on her waist, he helped her shift up in the bed.

"Thanks…" Sara took the glass he offered and brought it to her lips, the juice sloshing under the unsteady grip of the woman holding it.

"God Sara…" He hated seeing her incapacitated. His hand came up and he placed it over hers, stabilizing the tumbler.

"I think I'm just a little hypoglycemic." She attempted to move her hand from his. "You know, I've been drinking by myself since I was one…" She reminded him, but his grip held fast, so she gave up with a huff and allowed him to help her take a few sips."

"There was probably less chance of you spilling it when you were one." He indicated the tremors controlling her hands and after a brief struggle he pulled the glass from her grip and placed it on the table. "You know, you are way too stubborn for your own good." He grimaced knowingly at her. "It wouldn't hurt to let someone care for you once in a while." His palm returned to hers and he wove his fingers through hers calming the shakes.

"Oh yes it would." She commented darkly and then dropped her eyes to their entwined hands.

They'd talked some that night after the Melton case and Sara's subsequent suspension, he'd been more than a little surprised to learn that the bright and spirited woman he'd come to know had had anything other than a normal childhood. he suspected that if he'd paid better attention, that there were hidden clues in her behavior. "How old were you when you were left on your own?"

The inquiry was out of the blue and caught Sara off guard. It was a loaded question. "12..."

"Too young to be alone..." Grissom's thumb roamed lazily over supple skin of Sara's hand, bringing with it a certain measure comfort. Something that he hoped would help her open up to him. The Sara Sidle he'd knew had always been very independent, it was one of the qualities that had drawn him to her. However, the circumstance behind this particular trait was the very thing that prevented her from seeking out help, when she really needed it and as oblivious as he could be at times, he'd never given it much thought.

She let out a short derisive snort. "Not young enough."

"Why?" Grissom's stare held her fast.

Sara didn't want this conversation to go any further. "It's not important." She shook her head and sunk a little deeper into her pillows.

She tried to pull her hand away, but Gil Grissom had no intention of letting it go. He'd wasted far too much time, ignoring the things that mattered to him the most, in lieu of protecting himself from his own fears and as difficult as it was for him to accept, his selfishness had already cost him dearly. The months that Sara had been with Luke Denton had been some of the most painful in his life. While they had not been overt in any of their affections, particularly at the lab, he'd still managed to catch them in the odd embrace or occasional caress and that was when he had first realized the fatal flaw in his original plan of action. Doing nothing had hurt way more than he would have liked to admit was possible and while he wasn't sure that he could ever regain anything other than friendship from the young woman he'd brought to Vegas, he knew he needed to try. "It is important. I'd like to know what you meant. You threw the comment out there. It's not fair to leave it floundering in mid-air."

Dark eyes studied blue a moment, assessing his motives. The expression he wore was one of concern and genuineinterest. He looked a lot like he did when he was working on an emotionally taxing case, his eyes were minutely bloodshot and his face drawn with exhaustion. "You should get some sleep…" She smiled shyly at him. "You look tired."

"I will when you answer my question." Her diversionary comment hadn't worked; he made sure she knew it.

Sucking in a slow shallow breath, Sara shook her head. "This is going to sound terrible, but when I was little. I used to wish I was an orphan. Of course I know now, that in order for that to happen both of my parents would have to be dead, but as a child that fact didn't register."

"Things were that bad at home?" There was no judgment in his voice.

"Pretty much…" She grinned sorrowfully and with her free hand picked at the imaginary lint on her comforter. "I learned really early on, that there is really only one person you can depend on. Yourself… Relying on others would only lead to hurt."

"That's not always the case, Sara…"

"Well you wouldn't know that in my house and it's a motto that's served me well."

"Did your father hit you?" It was something he had longed to ask her when they had originally talked about her family, but at the time the words had lodged agonizingly in his throat. He hadn't really wanted to know the answer. This time he forced them out.

Ouch…

He was poking at some tender spots.

Sara bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "Not a lot really… When I was little I would sometimes get in the way by accident. Then I would get hurt, and when I was older, I would sometimes get in the way on purpose. Those times I ended up sporting a few bruises, but for the most part, no."

Grissom let out the breath he'd been holding. "Good."

Sara gazed at him a moment wondering if she should continue. "Actually, it wasn't."

Grissom looked at her in confusion. "I don't understand…"

"I know." Nervous fingers swiped her loose curls off her face and attempted to explain. "It's not that I wanted to be hit. In fact I spent most of my childhood avoiding it, but the fact that he didn't hit me changed the whole family dynamic. I was set apart from my mother and brother. I know my mother resented me for it."

"Sara… I'm sure you're wrong… Most mothers would be relieved that at least one of their children was able to escape unharmed." He tried to reason with her; his heart clenching painfully at the thought that what she was saying might have even a modicum of truth to it.

The smile that spread across her face was achingly honest and her voice dropped to a dark whisper. "Not my mother." Her eyes darted from his to the pattern on her bedspread. "There was one time. I was maybe, 4 and they were having a major blow out. I was hiding in my room, but I knew just by the sound of things flying that it was a bad one. I could see him from my window when he left. So I went down stairs and found my mom lying in a pool of blood on the floor. Her face was all red and swollen and she was bleeding from her nose and mouth. I couldn't rouse her. I was terrified." She cast a quick glance his way, but then swiftly diverted her eyes at the emotions playing on his face. "It took me a minute, but I managed to remember the number to call when someone was hurt. So I called for help. My brother had taught me our address. When they came to get her I was hiding and they took her away. Evan came home after that." She was shaking, again, but this time it was brought on by the horrifying memory of the occasion.

Grissom pictured a tiny girl with dark ringlets, trying to make to make a call like that. At four years old he couldn't imagine what it must have been like. The image in his head had rendered him speechless. His fingers tightened around hers providing a comforting lifeline from the misery of her past.

"Evan put me to bed that night. When my dad came home, he freaked out that my mom was gone." Closing her eyes against the tears threatening to flow, Sara leaned back against the bed. "She was home the next morning, her face looking like she'd gone nine rounds with a boxer. My dad, he beat her up again for going to the hospital and that night she passed it on to me. She said it was my fault for calling an ambulance." Sara grimaced and gulped back the ache sitting in her chest. "After that day, I never called for help. Even if she wasn't moving, even if there was blood everywhere. I would just go down and sit with her, hold her hand or hold her head, and just wait with her until Evan came home, or she moved. But I never picked up that phone again." Her words softened with exhaustion. "My brother didn't care. For as long as I can remember, he would leave her lying there, and just walk around her like she was a piece of furniture. Even when she was at her meanest, I couldn't do that."

Opening her eyes, Sara cast a tentative glance at the man beside her. The anguish on his face told her all she needed to know. _Her admission had been way too much. _"Can open… worms everywhere…" She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry…"

Gil Grissom was startled by her apology. "For what..?" He was still trying to come to terms with the images she had placed in his mind's eye.

"This was something you really didn't have to hear. I just…" Needing a moment to sift through her words, she paused, let go of his hand and reached for the glass of orange juice. Grissom beat her to it and pressed it to her swollen lips.

A gulp later, Sara just shook her head. "My life is very messy, Gris. In retrospect it's kind of a good thing that you turned me down when you did. You probably would have broken a leg or something else, just as important, tripping over all of the baggage I have lying around." She closed her eyes again and slid down into the softness of her bed. A pain filled smirk decorated her lips before she turned away from him and curled up on her side.

It took him a few minutes to recover, to bring the pounding of his heartbeat back to normal. Plucking through the broad spectrum of emotions drilling at his already beleaguered brain, he tried to harness the ones that were productive while dispelling all of the others, but there was no order or sense to them. The one thing he did come away with was the overwhelming sense of regret that had been dogging him for far too long.

Rising to his feet he leaned over and pushed the dark tangle of curls away from her ear. He could see the bandaged scar, and fingered it lightly before bending in and placing a light kiss on her cheek. Her eyes flicked groggily in his direction and closed again.

"You're wrong, you know. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I've regretted it every day since." The admission just rolled off his tongue unhindered by boundaries or conscience.

In response Sara simply pulled her comforter completely over her head. Her words were soft and muffled from beneath the bedding. "Your timing sucks…"

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Hey folks, I am in LA. Went to CBS took in a taping of Rockstar... It was fun. Went up to the CSI location and was mid pasta munch when I saw a crew truck go by with a sherrif's car and a tractor on it. I will be looking for it in a future episode. We found the unit too, (couldn't help it my natural curiousity got the better of me) but it was in an valley and the only way to get there was to take out the little mexican guard at the gate - technically we could have as there were four of us girls, but I would have felt mean doing it, sooo... There is another chapter fully edited and ready for posting I will try to get it up here tomorrow. LV was fine but I am having a devil of a time with my internet here in LA.

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 13**

_**LV Crime Lab**_

**_August 23, 10 am_**

Archie immediately blackened the screen when Tanner Mayfield walked in. Even though CSI was usually professional the AV Tech wasn't terribly fond of him and was concerned about what Mayfield's response to the information on the DVD would be. Admittedly it was Mayfield's case, but sometimes a man is just a man and Archie wasn't comfortable showing him the items he had gathered over the last few hours. In this particular instance the Asian computer tech, was pretty certain that if his colleague were to become privy to any of what Archie had been working on his response would be less CSI and more "horny dude." It was this fact alone that prompted his decision to put his computer in sleep mode

"You done with that stuff yet?" The older man enquired testily, his tired eyes immediately dropping from the computer screento the items beside it.

"Ah… No…" Archie's hand instantly reached for the note pad beside him and he quickly shifted a few items from his desk on top of it, as though he were busy looking for something. With a wave he indicated the stacks of stuff around him, he pointed to an empty video box, with the cassette sitting on top. "Liquor store shooting from the day before bumped you for an hour or so, but I am going to get to it next."

Mayfield huffed. "Ecklie wants it ASAP." At this rate he was never going to get home.

"Okay, I'll get right on it…" He picked up a different DVD. "Get back to me in about an hour and I'll hopefully have something to give you."

When the man had left, Archie clicked the mouse and studied the screen in front of him. He triangulated on the woman in the photo again and let out a soft whistle. Shaking his head, he cleared the note pad, added another name to the growing list before ejecting the DVD, and slipping in the one he'd shown Mayfield.

Ten minutes later, his face pasty white, Archie Johnson walked into Conrad Ecklie's office. This entire situation was crazy as well as nerve wracking. There was information here and it was dangerous. He was certain the subjects in Mayfield's case were completely unaware of their participation in the DVD collection he was processing, and he was equally sure that every one of them would be completely mortified were they ever to find out. In a way, he wished that this case was Graveyard's, because dealing with Assistant Lab Director was in no way the best possible scenario. In fact it was the worst. He would rather have Grissom to deal with, at least then he knew that discretion would be the expectation, as opposed to the exception.

_**Jim Brass' house**_

**_August 23, 11am_**

"Hey, go for it lover-boy…" The muzzy sensual sound of the woman's tone hit him in all the right places. Her voice was thick with a Latin accent, and her curves were oh-so-right, in Brass' eyes. In the distance the shrill ringing of a phone proved little distraction against the red lace bodice of the lingerie she wore. She was buxom… NO doubt about it, but tight and sinewy, too.

"My, your gun is huge…hot stuff…" She leaned in and planted a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Another ring… This time louder… It shattered the dream causing his Lolita to dissipate between the half open drapes of his bedroom and out into the heavy grey of the mid-morning sky. Brass felt his mouth it was still wet; though not from the residual effect of a lingering kiss, but rather that he had been drooling in his sleep.

The phone rang a third time. This time loud and shrill, its urgency clear through the lasting after effect the sound had on his ears. Still only partially awake Jim's hand flailed about until it came in contact with the warm smooth plastic of his phone. Depressing the talk button he drew it to his ear and grunted. "Yeah…"

The man on the other end rambled on gruffly, barely giving Jim Brass time to respond. Within a minute the call was over and the dial tone blared out of the ear piece. Moaning he squinted at the headset through heavy lids and then hit speed dial. The drowsy voice on the other end of the line mimicked his. Gil Grissom had clearly been sleeping.

"Gil…Hey how's Sara?" The older man listened to his friend's sluggish rundown of the previous 18 hours.

"Poor girl…" She'd looked bad at the hospital. "She seemed to be barely holding it together at the hospital. I know this is not something you want to hear, my friend, but she was involved with the man for some time. There had to be a serious commitment there…"

Grissom's voice was heavy with exhaustion and grave with acceptance. "I know…" He replied, hoping his friend wouldn't continue, this was a speech he'd heard once to often over the past 24 hours.

"I'm just saying that I have seen criminals die before, and not necessarily by my hand, and no matter how many times it happens it still bothers me immensely. Luke's shooting… Well I'm surprised she hasn't come completely unhinged. I know I would have if it was someone that I lo…" He stopped himself and changed the words he was going to use. "that I uh… cared about." The Captain's unease was evident, even through the phone line. "Just take care of her, okay?"

"I'm trying." A sigh of resignation escaped the entomologist. "I just don't know how to help her. Catherine is telling me one thing. I'm trying to do what I think is best, but I either end up saying or doing the wrong thing and causing her more pain, or making her angry with me." Frustration slipped through his words.

"Well, if you've never been through this kinda thing, it's hard to know what to do. I don't relish your situation. Especially, since well… how you feel about… well… you know." He didn't want to bring Grissom's emotional attachment to the young CSI into the picture, but somehow he knew that, that was already a major factor in his friend's confusion. "Just listen if she needs to talk, and try not to judge. I know considering their relationship and your feelings for her, Luke's being gone is advantageous, but remember - that applies to you - not Sara."

"Jesus, Jim I would never have wanted the man dead, despite… everything."

"Just tread lightly, my friend."

"I will…" Grissom let out a tense huff. "So did you just call to check up on Sara? Or was there something else?"

"Yeah, I just got a call from the Under Sheriff and he didn't explain why, but I've been removed from the Denton case. I just thought you should know." With that, he listened to the lethargic thank you from the other end of the phone line and drifted back to his dreams.

**_Sara's_** **_apartment_**

**_August 23, 11:05 am_**

Gil Grissom was still dazed from the weariness that had settled deep into his bones. He'd slept a few hours, which clearly wasn't enough to do anything more than give him the shakes and leave him feeling even more worn-out. He reviewed his conversation with Brass and realized that whatever the meaning, his head was far too clogged with drowsiness and thoughts of Sara for him to do any thing with it. Sluggishly, he moved to his feet and followed his well worn path into the young woman's bedroom.

The curtains were still drawn effectively blocking out the mid day light. His hand immediately found the lamp it was looking for, but almost knocked over the oversized vase of flowers still resting beside it. He felt sickened as he took in the bouquet, but he shoved his anger to the back of his mind for the present time. He would deal with Judge Wilson at a later date and time, for now he was on a mission.

His eyes slipped to the still form on the bed and he sucked in his breath. Her track top and pajama shirt had both slid up giving him his second look at the thick line of dark purplish bruises decorating her pale back. He studied them a moment. She'd hit something hard and it had to have hurt. He couldn't help himself; he reached out and ran a finger over the blackened area, his touch a mere whisper on her skin. She didn't move, so he pulled her tops down to cover the stains on her flesh and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Sara…" He murmured, his hand moving to her shoulder and shaking it lightly. Immediately, he brought his palm to her wrist to prevent her from taking a possible swing at him. Fortunately, none was forthcoming; she simply rolled over and moaned at him.

"Sorry…" He smiled at her and grabbed the juice off the night table. "Time for another drink…"

"Mmmm…" She moaned again and shifted up in bed, a wince plastering her face as she dug her palms into the mattress.

"Are you in a lot of pain…?" Grissom asked, at the same time bringing the glass to her lips.

She took a liberal gulp and swallowed it before answering. "I'm okay, just stiff, and the stitches under my ribs hurt."

"Can I see them?" Other than the bruises on her back and legs, and a glimpse at the bandage on her neck, he hadn't really seen the full extent of her injuries, particularly the bullet wound.

"It's fine." She assured him taking the glass from his hand. She was still a little shaky, but not nearly as bad as she had been.

"I know it is. I just want to see them."

She gazed at him over the rim of the glass a moment and then drained it, before giving him an affirmative nod. "It's just a big purple mess…" She grinned, dropped the empty glass back on the table and pulled her top up. "So what do ya think doc?"

It was, he admitted,exactly as she described it; a big purple mess, with a reddened streak running through it. Grissom leaned in and counted, ten blue plastic knots held the wound together. The older man gulped back the fear the rose from the pit of his stomach. She really could have been killed. "You scared me." He admitted, his defenses way too low.

Her mouth twisted and she bobbed her head. "I scared myself." Her dark eyes became distant. "I think it will be a while before I forget the vision of that shot gun coming up." She smirked at her own truth. "Not a lot frightens me, but that did." Tears were in her eyes, yet as always she was putting on a brave front. "But that's the nature of our job right?"

He wanted to hold her. Take her in his arms and comfort her, but that would be a dangerous prospect. Both of them were emotionally naked at the moment and equally vulnerable. He knew that anything other than a held hand could easy shift beyond reassurance, into something deeply intimate. Reaching for her slim hand, he drew it to his mouth and placed a tender kiss on it. All the while, Catherine's words from earlier replayed in his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, the blonde woman was right. Now was not the time. "It is…" He heaved a grave sigh. "But that doesn't mean we have to like it."

"Yeah…"

A shuddering sigh rattled through his chest, and he shook his head. "I…" His fingers played over the sensitive skin of her hand. "I don't know what I would have done if you were..."

Sara shook her head immediately and brought her free hand up to his lips. "Don't think about it. You can't, and I can't." She dropped her eyes to their joined hands. "If a person spends all their time dwelling on the - _what ifs – _they eventually become paralyzed into inaction. I can't live my life by that premise." She squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

Grissom nodded, his demeanor was less than accepting, but as usual he was at a loss, so he changed the subject. "Are you still dizzy?"

"A little…" She confessed. "But mostly when I move quickly…" Sara leaned back heavily into the pillows and slid down.

"Do you want some Tylenol? The plain stuff…" He added.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "No more drugs. I'll be fine."

"Okay…" He stared at her a moment, wishing for some divine intervention to inspire him from above, and fill him with whatever knowledge he needed to make everything less of a nightmare for the woman in front of him. His cobalt eyes absorbed the image. Her face was wan, and hosted tell tale shadows under her rich chocolate colored eyes. Her lips were pursed, an action that kept them from trembling under the burden of the sadness, sitting cruelly in her chest. Then he kissed her hand again. "After all this is over we need to talk." He told her, his weight leaving the bed, as he climbed to his feet. Gently almost reverently his fingers danced over her hair then he was gone; the bedroom door shutting softly behind him. He needed a few more hours of sleep. His head was a mess and his heart even worse.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Hey everyone I am back home. It is a good thing and a bad thing (I would rather have stayed). I am heading off to LV in Nov. and am bound and determined to take my stranger half with me to LA next April again. I had intended to update more but I was having a bugger of a time in LA. I'm not sure if it is the loaner laptop I am using or the setup down there but I couldn't get on half the time and when I did posting was next to impossible. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. 

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 14**

_**Sara's apartment**_

**_August 23, 2:30pm_**

Sara finally felt somewhat rested and most definitely better than she had at any time in the last 48 hours. Despite the broken sleep and being force fed a variety of juices by an overly anxious Gil Grissom, she'd had enough down time to allow her to recover somewhat. It probably helped that the most pronounced effects of the codeine had worn off as well, but whatever the reason she was just relieved to be feeling something close to normal.

That sentiment lasted until she put her feet on the floor and the whirring in her head reminded her that she wasn't as close to her regular self as she thought. The vertigo slowed to a lazy spin as her blood levels evened out and she found that she could move without too much impairment if she took it slowly. Coming to a stop in front of her dresser mirror she eyed the disaster in front of her. Sliding her sleeves up her thin arms she inspected the dark marks on her creamy flesh, and took in the large gash under her ribs. "You look like shit, Sidle." She told the drawn reflection in the mirror and decided that a warm bath might make her feel better.

Gathering up a change of clothes, she padded quietly through the main living area into the bathroom and deposited them on the counter, before returning to the living room.

On the couch, sprawled in an odd position and strangely enough - snoring unabashedly – Gil Grissom was fully wrapped in the arms of sleep. His glasses lay discarded on the floor and a forensics magazine was trapped under his head, with the glossy cover sticking to one damp cheek.

Sara grinned and wondered if there was any way she could adjust him so that he was more comfortable without actually waking him, but she didn't want to take the chance. Instead she pulled the thin mint colored throw off the other couch draped it carefully over him before picking his glasses up and placing them silently on the ottoman. This was a rare moment for her; the opportunity to study the man who had so radically affected her life, without the awkwardness usually present between them.

Her heart clenched slightly before she reminded herself, that much like other traumatic events in her life she had put all of this behind her. Her feelings for the man splayed out across her couch had been banished to a well sealed box in a dusty corner of her heart and were going to stay there. Comments like the one he had made earlier would go unacknowledged by her timid heart and un-pondered by her fickle mind. It was something she had needed to do in order to facilitate her own emotional healing. Digging her nails into her palms, she exhaled a soft sigh and turned away, wishing for all the world that things could have been different.

A few minutes later she was soaking up to her neck in lemon and verbena bubbles trying, unsuccessfully, to forget the last few days. Tears she had thought she was through shedding were brought on by the roil of memories. Slipping under the foam she let the warm water gently wash them away.

_**Sara's apartment **_

**_August 23, 3pm_**

Gil Grissom awoke to a determined pounding at the door. It took him a moment to orient himself to his surroundings and another few seconds to register that the correct response to a knock is to get up and answer it. The sound of running water emanated from the bathroom indicating that his charge was up and using the facilities. Hopefully this was a sign she was feeling better.

Peeling away the magazine stuck to his face, he considered the blanket covering him, before throwing it aside. He didn't remember grabbing it. Searching around frantically for his glasses, he found them perched on the leather ottoman in front of him, somewhere didn't remember putting them. He pondered the evidence for a moment trying to determine if he'd covered himself or if the pretty brunette in the washroom was the culprit.

Another impatient knock reminded him of why he was awake in the first place and in response he unfurled his cramped and aching muscles and raising himself up off of the couch. The woman standing on the other side of the door wore her no-nonsense attitude like a suit of armor. Clearly, this was somewhere Sofia Curtis didn't want to be. Since she'd worked last night, her arrival meant she was seven hours into a double shift and her mood more than verified it.

Surprise was not an emotion that Detective Curtis expected to feel when the door to Sara Sidle's apartment opened. Yet there it was, like a full handed slap in the face. The blonde detective was not sure what she had anticipated, but a disheveled and freshly woken Gil Grissom in dark plaid pajama bottoms and a dark gray t-shirt, certainly wasn't it.

During the time that she'd come to know both of them, she'd realized that Grissom and Sara shared something unique, simply by the seamless way they worked together, but the detective had always believed that it was more of a mentor – student relationship. This whole situation changed all that and it wasn't something that she herself was very pleased about.

"My, isn't this cozy…" Ecklie insinuated over Sofia's shoulder and then pushed past her into the comfortable living room.

Hands placed on his hips Grissom stepped in front of him and blocked any further intrusion into his CSI's home. "What are you doing here, Conrad?"

Ignoring his inquiry completely Ecklie waved a search warrant in the graveyard supervisor's face and made his way towards the open door at the end of the room. "Where's Sidle?" He asked as an army of police and two CSI's from days followed him in.

Grissom looked askance at Sofia who just shook her head. She was there to secure the scene little more. Any explanation was Ecklie's responsibilitysincehe was the one in charge of the evidence search.

It was at that moment Sara chose to emerge from the bathroom. Freshly, scrubbed and fully dressed in what was rapidly become her staple attire, a deep maroon track top and matching shorts. She was still towel drying her hair when she looked up to find Conrad Ecklie in her face and her livingroom filled with people, only a few of whom she recognized. Her eyes searched out Grissom, her confusion evident. "What's going on here?"

Ecklie handed her the warrant and started barking out orders to the others. They scattered into the various rooms leaving Sofia, himself, Sara and Grissom alone. "Ms. Sidle, you may take a seat on the sofa, but that is just a courtesy, because you know, as well as I do, that I could have you ordered out into the hallway."

"What is going on?" She asked again. She didn't realize, until Grissom came and slipped an arm around her waist, that she was visibly shaking.

"The couch, now…" He ordered. His tone left little room for argument, so she allowed herself to be led over to the closer of the two sofas. Grissom's eyes searched her pale face, and then he turned and stomped over to the Assistant Director. "She deserves an answer."

"Gil, I am letting you stay as a consideration for a colleague as well. Don't make me remove you."

"She's recovering from injuries she got on the job." Grissom emphasized the last word. "Whatever this is about, couldn't it wait?" Grissom was livid, but he kept his cool. It would do neither Sara nor him any good to if he lost his temper. His eyes drifted from Ecklie and Sofia, and then settledon Sara who was slumped over her head now supported in her hands.

"Look, this is going to happen. Now," Ecklie nodded to younger of the two CSIs who had exited the bedroom, a brown bag clutched in his hand. "You know as well as I do, that any investigation is time sensitive. Evidence that is here today may not be here tomorrow."

"What evidence?" Sara intoned from the couch. She held up the warrant with one trembling hand. "This is carte blanche; giving you the right to search my whole apartment, but it doesn't tell me why?" She brushed her damp curls off her forehead and stood. The momentary shock was finally wearing off only to be replaced by confusion, indignation and anger. "If you are going to rummage through my private business and my personal stuff, don't I at least deserve to know what you're looking for?" She moved unsteadily over to stand beside Grissom. "What is this search based on?" She jumped slightly as he placed a steadying palm on her back.

"I don't have to tell you anything CSI Sidle." Ecklie's dismissive attitude practically begged her to argue with him.

Squelching the strum of anger in her chest, Sara shook her head refusing to be drawn in. Another altercation with the man in front of her would be grounds for dismissal. Instead, she turned to Sofia. "I am not being non-compliant. I am willing to help you and give you whatever information you ask for. Just tell me what it is you are looking for…" She suggested reasonably.

Sofia's eyes slid over to the balding man beside her. She was not a fan of her former boss; in fact his tactics and behavior, in her opinion, left little to be desired, but she also had a job to do. The blonde detective was going to deny Sara's request, but she caught the look of extreme fury on Grissom's face. Remembering the incident between the two men with a coffee pot she decided that it was best to defuse the situation. "Okay…" She crossed her arms and nodded. "Do you have any of Luke Denton's personal effects here?"

The younger woman was stunned by the question,involuntarily stepping back."Ah…" She shook her head slowly. "No…why…?"

"He never gave you anything or left anything here?"

The slim brunette shook her head again. "No."

"You have no_ne _of his clothes? DVDs…? Books…? Toiletries…? Personal items...?"

"No."

"So much for compliance…" The older woman turned and stomped her way into the bedroom area.

Sara shook her head bewildered. "Really…" She looked at Ecklie. "I don't have anything of his here. He really never came to my place. We would go to his."

"Right…" The Assistant Director sniggered.

Sara gave up in defeat. At this point, she knew she would get nowhere with either of them. Grissom's hand snaked around her waist once again and he directed her back to the couch.

"Rest…" He said easing her onto the couch and running a hand through her still damp hairTucking a damp tendril behind her ear before his fingers came to rest under her chin. One thick thumb ran over her bottom lip, in a touch that was wholly intimate. "This will be over soon and I won't let him get away with it. Okay?" Raw emotion clouded his blue eyes.

Not wanting to read more into it than the concern she knew it was, Sara found herself needing to turn away. Casting a glance towards Sofia and Ecklie she noted that the two of them had moved into her bedroom. Overly aware of their presence, Sara reached up and removed his hand and sandwiched it between her own. "No need to fuel the office gossip mill." She smirked sadly.

"Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn…"

"Gone with the wind, Gris…?" Sara couldn't help but grin. "You are clearly sleep deprived."

"I am, but that doesn't mean I'm not aware of what I'm saying." He stared at her gaze unwavering. "Or doing."

This drew a curiously pained look from the pretty brunette in front of him.

"Sara…" It was Sofia; she'd returned from the bedroom with Ecklie in tow.

"Yeah…" She quickly released the hand pressed between her own and turned to the Detective.

"We need to ask you some questions. I think it would be best if we head over to LVPD."

"Are - are you arresting me?" Sara asked, her face drawn in shock. She immediately reached for her cordless. "Do I need a lawyer?"

Sofia shook her head. "No. This is informal. We just have some questions."

The younger woman's brows drew together as the two CSIs moved out of the bathroom and bedroom respectively and set to work in the main room. "Luminol…?" She asked shocked to see one of the twosome pull out a familiar spray bottle. The other drew the curtains shut and then pulled out print powder from a kit and moved into the kitchen. "What is this all about?" She stood uncertainly.

Sofia and Grissom both reached out simultaneously to steady Sara as she wobbled precariously, looking very much like she was going to collapse. She shook them both off.

"We'll clear everything up at PD." The former CSI watched the men working about the room. "It's better there than here right now."

"Whatever…" Now a suspect in an unknown crime, Sara Sidle simply walked to the door and slipped her shoes on. It was just one more indignity in a week of them "Let's go." She eyed the blonde woman from her doorway.

"I'm going to change. I'll meet you there." Grissom already had his bag in his hand and was moving towards the bathroom.

Conrad Ecklie stood near the counter, watching the print lift that was taking place in the kitchen. "I'll catch up with you at PD, too." He told the former Acting Day Shift Supervisor and exited after barking a few final instructions to the men still processing the scene.

"Jones, and Parmet; take Ms. Sidle to the car. I'll be right down." Sofia grabbed Gil Grissom's arm, effectively stopping him from entering the washroom. "Carmen you're here until these guys are done." The tall blonde called over her shoulder to him and then pulled the Graveyard Supervisor out of earshot. "I know that it's been a tough time the last few days, but Sara seems to be okay and even babysitters need to eat. So I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner later. You know, to talk things out. Sometimes it helps."

Grissom immediately shook his head. "No. Thanks, but Sara's far from fine and I want to be with her."

His comment could have been taken any number of ways, but it was delivered in such a way that he knew he'd made his point.

Sofia just nodded to herself and allowed her hand to fall away from his arm. "I see…"

"Good." Grissom responded curtly, he made to enter the bathroom and stopped. "I'm sorry, Sofia. I'll see you at PD." Closing the door behind him he dropped his satchel on the floor and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. He felt a momentary flash of guilt for being harsh, but he chucked that emotion aside. For him there had never actually been anything more than friendship between them, but he needed to make sure that she finally got the message.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Okay - I am still going through LA & LV withdrawal... especially this morning at the gym... I was watching something about Heidi Fleischmann (famed Hollywood madame) and noted the Beverly Hilton and the police department and realized that just a few days ago I was driving by both. Grrrr... There is hope though - my hubby and I are going back to LV in Nov. He has never been there. This is my birthday gift to him. And I intend to make a trip back to LA in April as an anniversary gift.

Hope you like this chapter it is a little unusual.

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 15**

_**LVPD**_

**_August 23, 4pm_**

Her joggers looked unusual on her feet. Any time she had visited the PD it had been work related, so she'd worn her work boots or shoes. Somehow her attire seemed seriously out of place. Not surprising considering that the circumstances behind her visitation were, in and of themselves, out of the ordinary.

She spotted the familiar figure of Grissom up ahead. He appeared to be involved in a heated argument with Conrad Ecklie. There was no yelling or shouting, just an animated conversation carried out in tense whispers and body language that ended the minute she and Sofia came within ear shot.

He must have broken more than a few speed barriers to get here before we did, Sara surmised, before stopping and placing a cool hand of the arm of the woman beside her. "Sofia…" She looked over at the older woman, unsure of how to ask, but she felt compelled to speak. "I… a… I'm not sure what this is about, but I'm assuming from the nature of your questions at my apartment that it's serious and it has something to do with Luke."

The detective nodded her head non-committally.

They had stopped outside of interview room two, and Sara licked her lips before tossing a sad grin at the woman in front of her. "Can you tell Grissom, that I would like to do this alone? He can watch from the observation room, if he wants." She searched the detective's face for some sign of compassion and found that there was actually a combination of both that and concern.

"Sure." She threw a tense smile at the younger CSI and opened the door to the room. "Have a seat. We'll be in, in a minute."

The door clicked shut behind Sara and she made her way over to the table and took a seat facing the two way mirror. _This side of the table feels different._

The room was barren like the other interrogation rooms except a TV & DVD set up. They had clearly been placed there for the purpose of her interrogation. On the floor beside them there was a large black leather storage box that looked like it had at one time been locked. Scratches on the front indicated that the lock had been forcibly removed.

Staring at the mirror, Sara knew that he would be in there when the interview began. She wasn't adverse to him hearing the interrogation, necessarily, but it would have been very hard to answer their questions and look at his face while doing it. Gil Grissom had never told her that he didn't love her and she was sure that on some level he did, but he was clearly unable to act on it because of his own demons. This way she could put some distance between herself and him, especially if the interview took on a particularly personal tone, while still giving him the answers he wanted.

Sofia moved up beside the two men who had resumed their argument, now that the topic of conversation was safely secluded behind a thick metal door. Jim Brass came sauntering through the back doors at the same time and quickly moved to join the group. The Captain had been the first person Grissom called when hopped into his truck,

"This is some vendetta you have against her for the altercation you two had last year. You have no right to drag her in here, Conrad, she's still recovering, and she answered all of your questions at the hospital."

The younger man's voice took on a decidedly superior tone when he looked over at the Grave shift Supervisor. "This is an investigation and until we can prove otherwise, she's a suspect. I can and will do what I think is right. You need to get a grip on your emotions, Gil; you seem to be a little too attached to your CSI."

"You're so full of shit, Conrad. I would be standing here arguing the same way if it any of my CSIs!"

"Really…? Would I have caught you in bed with Warrick or Nick yesterday, if it was them in the hospital instead?"

Brass grabbed his arm before Grissom was able to re-enact the actions of the previous day. "Gentlemen, this conversation has sunk to a new level of low…" He grimaced in Ecklie's direction.

Shooting daggers at the man in front of him, Grissom ate his angry retort. "Fine, but you have no right to keep me out of the interview."

Ecklie was about to piss out some smug rejoinder when Sofia held up a hand.

"Actually, I can solve this problem." The blonde woman's hands moved to her hips, and she smiled tensely under the withering glare of Gil Grissom. "Sara just asked me, now, to tell you that she wants to do this alone." The tall blonde leveled her gaze on both men. "You can, however, listen from the Observation Room." Raising her hand she indicated the second door, nodding to Ecklie who followed her into the interrogation room.

Angry, hurt and confused, Grissom kicked the garbage can standing next to him, causing it to buckle and list off to one side. "Do you have any idea what this is about?" Grissom asked turning on his friend.

"Man, I have no clue. All I know is this morning I was awaken out of my comfy bed and had my ass hauled off Luke Denton's case by the Under Sheriff himself. When I asked him why, he said that things had taken a turn in the case. That there were implications that CSI Sidle was involved, because we work together frequently there is a conflict of interest. That's when I called you." The Captain indicated the fact that he was actually dressed in jeans and a pull over as opposed to his usual suit and tie. "I was actually sound-asleep again, when you called me twenty minutes ago; so you know as much as I do, maybe more." He grabbed the door to the Observation Room. "Shall we?"

The interview had already started when they entered the room. Grissom hit the speaker irately. Sofia sat across from Sara her back facing the mirror, an empty notepad spread in front of her, and a remote placed innocuously next to her right hand. Conrad Ecklie stood smugly in the corner.

Sara looked over at him first, then Sofia and held her hands out, exhaustion playing across her face. "What am I doing here?"

"We ask the questions." Ecklie snapped.

"Okay, then ask. Just stop staring at me like I'm some lab specimen."

"A little advice, Sara, before we start..." The detective eyed her seriously. "Just answer the questions honestly."

"Of course..." The young brunette sat back in the chair and wrapped her arms around herself.

Ecklie nodded for detective Curtis to take the lead. "First off, how long have you known Luke Denton?"

Licking her lips Sara Sidle, eyed her reflection momentarily in the mirror, before drawing in a sharp breath. "Sixteen years… give or take."

"_Sixteen years?" Behind the glass Grissom looked at the man standing next to him. "She never said anything."_

_Jim Brass nodded. "I suspect there is a lot you don't know about Sara. Remember, sharing is a two way street."_

"_What is that supposed to mean?"_

"_You're one of the smartest men I know, Gil. You figure it out."_

_Grissom simply clenched his jaw in response. _

"So you knew him before he came to Las Vegas?"

"Yes."

Curtis tapped her pen on the table after writing down the information. "If you are going to give me one word answers, this is going to take a hell of a lot longer than it should. Now do you care to elaborate?"

"I knew him from Harvard."

"Were you involved?"

"Yes." Sara was going to leave the word flailing about in the air by itself, but in lieu of Sofia's previous comment, she continued. "He was on his second year of tenure as a Physics Professor, I was a graduating student. We had a relationship."

"What kind of relationship?"

A look that said "_what are you serious?"_ crossed the young CSI's face, but she answered anyway. "We dated."

"How long did the affair last?" The blonde detective prompted.

"Affair? You make it sound so illicit… We were two consenting adults and we were both single. We dated for 7 months." A slim hand came up and she nervously ran it through her unruly dark hair.

"What happened? Who ended it and why?"

"Things changed between us. I ended it."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Sure. When we first started seeing each other things were great. He was kind, compassionate, smart, and… " Sara flushed heavily and stared down at the table. "And though a little unorthodox at times, he was an exceptional lover." Grinning tightly she stared at the woman sitting across from her. "But then you would know that, too, now wouldn't you?"

It was Sofia's turn to blush. "Yes... But not while he was with you, Sara…"

A tense smirk broke across her features, before she nodded. "I know."

_In the other room Gil Grissom turned to the man standing beside him. "What did he sleep with every available woman in the Lab and the PD?"  
_

_Brass shrugged. "Probably some that weren't available, too, but hell if I know." _

_The two immediately turned their attention back to the other room._

"So in the beginning things were good?" Sofia pushed.

"Yes, pretty much."

"One word answers, again."

"Right, sorry. Yes, we went out a lot did things normal couples do. A few weekends away; Martha's Vineyard, um, four days in the Bahamas, so on."

"Expensive for a college student... Did he pay?"

"No. I paid sometimes. He paid others. It depended on who planned the excursion." Sara shook her head. "Look, I don't advertise it, but I am comfortable financially. My paternal grandmother left the bulk of her estate to be turned over to me when I reached 20. I've enjoyed some of it and have left the rest up to my Broker to care for. I have never been terribly caught up in finances. How does this pertain to Luke Denton?"

"It speaks to his state of mind. Maybe he felt used?"

"There was no reason to." She shook her head and took a moment to compose the rest of her answer. "He was always very attentive in every way. Most women would kill for a guy like him, so maybe it was me, but some time around February, things began to get weird."

Sofia just stared at the younger woman. "Weird?"

"Yes, I'm not sure when it happened, it seemed gradual. Over time he became very possessive, jealous, and distrustful. He started talking about marriage, children and building a life together. I began to feel confined and got the urge to run."

"Because he asked you to marry him…?"

"Uh, well, yes and no." Sara's hand moved to the bandage at the back of her neck as she massaged it absently. "He was thirty-ish and I was twenty-one. I was in no way ready to get married and I definitely didn't want children at the time. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a husband. That part freaked me out, but worse, was the fact that it was like he was planning an ideal life with me, but I wasn't really the person he was planning it with." A quizzical look spread across her face before she brought her eyes to bear on the woman in front of her. "Do you get what I mean?"

An expectant moment passed before the detective nodded. "I think so. You mean he wanted an ideal."

The young CSI nodded. "Kinda, but there was more to it, it was almost like only the physical me was real to him, the emotional me was his ideal. Trust me it was strange."

"So you ended it."

"Yes." She held a hand up before the other woman could ask for a further explanation. "I told him that it was my fault that I wasn't ready for everything that he wanted from our relationship."

"And how did he take it?"

"Badly…"

Sofia watched Sara waiting for her to continue.

"I had originally planned on staying at Harvard to finish my Masters, but changed my plans and transferred to Berkeley at the end of the year."

"Why?"

"He really began to worry me."

"How…?"

"After I ended it, I would see him everywhere. Places he shouldn't be, like sitting on a bench outside of my dorm, walking with a friend when I was jogging in the park, outside of my friend's house after I was on my way home from a study session or at a diner when I was meeting people for dinner. It was creepy."

"_He stalked her, the Son of a Bitch…" Grissom's hand came up and he whacked the wall. A low thud sounded in the room. On the other side of the glass, Sara looked up at the sound; her eyes falling almost exactly where he was standing._

_Brass threw a look at his old friend, "Obsessed and madly in love?"_

"_A predator..." He thought back to the marks that marred her pale skin. More and more Luke Denton was looking like a monster, but this in and of itself was an oddity. Not to say that Grissom wasn't well aware of the statistics of children coming from an abusive home – he had actually read up on it, after her dark admission to him – but Sara didn't seem to fit the stereotype. She knew it was wrong and was always intolerant of any kind of abuse especially when working a case. Yet, his head reminded him, victims weren't always able to apply that kind of knowledge to themselves._

"Did he ever hurt you?" detective Curtis through a quick glance over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the subject on the other side of the table.

Sara's eyes dropped to the reflective metal of the table for a moment before answering. "After I ended it…? No."

"And while you were still involved?"

A heavy sigh escaped the young brunette's mouth. "No. Usually, he was very gentle with me, almost reverent."

"I sense a _but_…" Officer Curtis waited for the CSI to continue.

"No…"

"Sara… You need to be honest with us."

A thick sigh escaped the younger CSI's pursed mouth. She really wasn't willing to take this conversation to a more personal level, but was fairly certain that she didn't have a choice. A brick sat in the pit of her stomach and for the first time she began to regret letting Grissom in the observation room. Swallowing back the words she looked past Sofia to the mirror and then dropped her eyes to the table in front of her and grinned in embarrassment. "He was always very gentle, but he liked his sex rough."

"How rough…?"

"Rough enough to hurt, if I let him."

"Did you?"

"Mostly no, but there is always a little give and take in a relationship – especially in the beginning. I was young and _willing to_ try new things, so at the start I'd let him get away with some stuff." She reiterated.

"Can you describe rough?"

"Uh, no… That's an intensely personal question." Sara's head dropped into her hands. Her next words were muffled. "And it has nothing to do with the present."

"Actually, it does… It speaks to a pattern of behavior."

Sara's head came up almost immediately. Disbelief warring with confusion and marring her features. "Pattern…? What are you telling me here? Did he hurt someone?"

"Sara please, just answer the question. I promise you in the end, I'll tell you everything."

"It would help if you give me and indication of specifically what it is you want to know." Innate frustration spread across her face as she stared at the older woman's impassive reflection, but no explanation was forthcoming from across the table. "Okay… uh… Let's see, was he kinky? That depends the size of the stick you use to measure sexual normalcy. Jesus – you slept with him, too…"

The words sat like a dead weight between the two women for a loaded moment. "It was strictly textbook Sara…" Sofia admitted reluctantly.

"Text book…?" The younger woman queried, a modicum of humor dancing in her voice. "Which one? 'The Kama Sutra,' 'The Joy of Sex,' or 'Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns?"

"This is not about me and a one time occurrence." Sofia stated testily at the same time trying to shift the focus off of her and back to the place it truly belonged. "You said he liked it rough. Define rough..."

"The answer was actually in my question." Sara replied her eyes flicking momentarily to the two way mirror and the man she knew as behind it.

"Quit being cryptic, otherwise we're going be here all day." The blonde detective warned the slow burn of anger rushing through her veins.

"I told you he was unorthodox. Look up the last title I threw your way. That should answer your question."

"I want to hear it from you. Now! My days of doing research are over. I'm not a CSI, I'm a cop. So quit fucking around and answer my question." The pitch of Sofia's voice rose almost to the nails on chalk board level. "What kind of rough? When he was with you was it beyond the norm? Pushing the unusual…? Violent…?" Sofia prodded.

"You mean was he into different paraphillias? Like BDSM and that whole hotbed of tricks?" Sara looked away from the judgmental eyes of the two people in the room and completely blanked Grissom from her mind; otherwise she would never be able to answer.

"Yes." Slowly the slim brunette nodded. "He was and in the beginning - only for a very short while I…" Her face flushed a full and bold red. "I allowed him to… uh… God, I'm not sure how familiar you are with the language..."

"_Holy fuck…" Brass looked at his friend beside him._

_Grissom remained silent his mind running over the marks he'd seen. His minimal experience at the Dominion taught him that there were things there that could cause such damage, but Sara seemed an unlikely participant in such games. However, the evidence was telling._

The blonde detective shrugged. "I know a little…"

"Right…" She fought for a second trying to find the right words. "I would allow him to set the scene, but he worried me and within the first few months I had put a stop to his favorite form of play. By the end of our relationship he knew better than to go there with me."

"Why was that? Too experimental for you…?" The sarcasm in the detective's voice evident, the look on her face – though an attempt at impassiveness - betrayed disgust at the younger woman's admission.

A grimace, followed by a measured sigh, punctuated her words and she decided just to dive in. "Look, I've never been one to shy away from experimentation with anything. In fact, I've often welcomed it. I consider every new thing a learning experience, be it good or bad and the specific paraphillias you are asking about, though not personally my bag of cookies are not something I particularly fear when conducted in accordance with certain rules of…. play." Sara slipped easily into teacher mode, old rudimentary lessons coming back to her.

"But you must remember that kind of power switch requires an interminable amount of trust and faith in your lover otherwise it can become a very painful prospect and suffice to say by the time I was in my twenties I had seen more than my share of pain and violence. I didn't need to take it to bed with me, so while I allowed it in the beginning of our relationship, I put a stop to it fairly quickly." The young CSI held up a hand. "Did he hit me? Never… Was there the potential for brutality in him then? Yes, but I think that that potential exists in almost everyone. Did I ever willingly allow him to tie me up? A few times, but I swiftly ended that scenario, as well."

The room was drenched in a stunned silence while the two other people processed what it was that the young woman had just said.

_On the other side of the glass, Jim Brass raised his eyebrows and stammered slightly. "Yeeeaaahhhh…" He cast a furtive glance at his friend. He'd always seen Sara Sidle as kind of sweet and geeky. The present revelation had him re-evaluating what clearly may have been a misconception. "Mmmm… lab coats and leather..." He mumbled. "So did she just say that she was into that kinky shit? Or that she wasn't?"_

"_That kinky shit…? How very open minded and tolerant of you Jim…" Grissom squinted at the man beside him, doing his best to ignore the twinge of arousal that had exploded in his belly. "A certain amount of trusting play between two consenting adults is perfectly normal." _

"_Do I need to get you a dog collar for your birthday, Gil? Or do you already have one from past experience?" He grimaced. "Come on man, it ain't normal when it involves garrotes, shackles, and ball gags." The older man shook his head. _

_Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Grissom exhaled noisily. "In answer to your question, I think she said she wasn't into it, though with the right person the idea didn't particularly scare her."_

"_Good, because I didn't really want to be picturing your CSI in there all decked out in liquid latex and sporting a leather mask every time I see her."_

"Being tied up is pretty tame." Sofia commented after digesting the younger woman's statement.

"True. With another man it might have been pleasurable, but with him… I just… I learned almost immediately, not to give up that much control. You know, it could have been my imagination, but there were a few of times that I was really… concerned... He was considerably larger and stronger than me and he had this look in his eyes that, frankly, scared me." Sara's gaze became distant as she remembered. "And after the first time he hurt me, I knew to catch the situation before it went too far."

"What did too far entail?" Sofia's blue eyes widened at the admission, while a self-righteous snort could be heard from the corner.

Sara had almost forgotten about Ecklie's presence in the room, but now she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, her eyes flitting between her two interrogators. She gave it maybe two hours before her admissions became property of the lab's gossip pool. The 15 weeks vacation time she had stored up was beginning to look pretty good.

Sofia returned her stare an almost sympathetic smile curling her lips. She felt for the woman in front of her. She had always gathered that Sara was a deeply private person, Sofia respected that, but she also had a job to do.

"Too far, actually entailed serious bruising and pain... I fractured my collar bone once and my wrist another time…" The slim brunette twirled one loose ringlet through her fingers absently and sucked in a ragged breath. "The collar bone was the first incident. He was in the process of… well… I had something…" She stopped, trying to gather her thoughts, her hand vaguely shifting to the ivory skin of her neck. "I was wearing a velvet choker around my neck; he yanked it and somehow snapped my clavicle. At the time I considered it an accident. The wrist was the second time. I was taking a shower at his place and he joined me. He caught me by surprise. I ended up with my face pressed up against the tile and my hands caught in some sort of a restraint behind my back. At first I thought he was fooling around, just lover's play, but he was hurting me. So I used our… ah… safe word and he uh… he didn't stop."

Fear brought on by the memory clouded her face and washed over her causing a slight tremble. "I struggled with him until I managed to get free, but I fractured one of the bones in my wrist. When I caught a look at his face…" She shook her head. "It was almost like he had zoned out. I freaked on him and left. After that I never showered at his place again. In fact I almost never went back to his apartment again. He was very apologetic, but I almost ended it."

"Safe words…? Chokers…? Restraints…? BSDM…? You sound rather versed in the language of deviant sexual behavior, Ms. Sidle." Ecklie spat the words in her direction.

Sara's eyebrows rose. "Deviant…?" She muttered. "Okay… Look, when he first asked me if I would like to…" She stopped and pursed her lips, fighting back the tears pooling in her eyes. "This is really humiliating. These questions... He's gone. Can't we just leave it all, alone?"

"I'm sorry. We need you to hear your answer." Sofia's reply was solemn.

Silence permeated the room for a moment before a mask of indifference fell across Sara's pale face. She needed to depersonalize the whole situation. "Alright…" She closed her eyes. "When Luke first suggested this form of stimulation to me, I balked, because truthfully the thought of it unnerved me." She swallowed hard. "But I was intrigued enough to ask for information from a friend, who was seriously involved in that lifestyle at the time. I also read enough about it to give me some idea as to what he was suggesting. For me studying something, tends to dispel my fear, so after thinking a little more about it, I stupidly agreed."

Sofia made to say something, but the young CSI held her hand up. "After the second time I got hurt, my friend ordered me to put a stop to the whole situation. He told me that I was playing a very dangerous game and that once could be considered an accident, but twice could only be inexperience or that Luke wasn't playing by the rules. Regardless, he was afraid I would get critically injured, so I did what he recommended."

"How did Denton take it?" Sofia inquired her pen bouncing rhythmically off the table.

"He acquiesced, saying that he was willing to do anything, not to lose me."

"So after that it was strictly text book?"

Sara laughed and shook her head. "Nothing was ever text book with Luke." Running her slim fingers through her hair, she leaned into the table and stared at the woman across from her. "He still liked it rough, but no toys, no role-play, no real pain…"

Moved by the haunted look in Sara's eyes the blonde woman redirected the conversation. "Did you know he had a thing for film?" Sofia tapped her pen against the note pad and then dropped it. Her hand immediately going to the remote beside her.

"Excuse me?" Total confusion was evident in the CSI's words.

"Film. You know video cameras?"

"Oh… Yeeaah…" The words were drawn out. "Um… back at Harvard, he bought this video camera. He followed me around with it constantly. It drove me nuts. It was a fairly innocuous hobby, but irritating none the less."

"Can I show you something?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "Why not…?"

The TV in the corner came to life, with a giggling and smiling 21-year old Sara Sidle. The sound was off, but she was clearly teasing the camera operator. Watching the monitor Sara's hands went to her mouth in surprise, as an amazed and discomfited, "Oh my God…" the exclamation escaped her lips. The girl on the monitor was model thin and dressed in little more that a black sport bikini. Her hair was much longer then and pulled back in a clip with a cascade of natural curls trailing down her back. Loose sand kicked up around her as she made her way towards the water. "That was Martha's Vineyard, late September. The weather was remarkable, but the water was damn cold."

_Captivated, Grissom was unable to tear his eyes away from the monitor. _

_Brass gulped back a lump in his throat and looked at his friend. "For such a brilliant man, you can be a real knob sometimes."_

"_Huh?"_

"_Yeah, that's what I thought."_

"There's a lot of this kind of stuff..." Sofia pointed the remote at the screen and a series of clips came to life. She would stop for a moment to let the younger woman get her bearings and then move on. It was pretty much a video journal of their relationship; picnics, dinners out, walks in the park, banquets, and watching TV. At some point, as the story unfolded across the screen, Sara's expression began to change, from one of humor, smiles and giggles to one of annoyance, upset and then in the end, downright anger.

The detective froze the screen on a clip of Sara immaculately dressed in a long black gown, her arms anxiously crossed, back rigid and face turned away from the camera.

"That was a faculty awards banquet. Two days before I ended the relationship, I already knew it was over by then, but was still trying to figure out how to tell him." She was shaking her head.

Sofia nodded. "You can tell."

"The camera thing was a fixation of his. He used to say we could show our children what their parents were like when they were younger. It wasn't my thing, but in the in the beginning I tolerated it. However, it got old really fast. Once after I caught him to trying to film us in bed I demanded that he not bring it out in my presence, again. He did, but whenever I saw it, I would tell him to turn it off, or I would leave."

The blonde detective unfroze the screen. "The tone changes from this point on and so does the view." Archie in AV had put in a number of cued up points. Sofia flipped through them further.

Sara had to agree these clips did have a different feel to them. They were distant. She was the subject, but no longer a participant in process. She stared at the screen for a moment, taking in pieces of her life before casting a glance at Ecklie and then turning to the other woman. "These were all taken after we broke up. Aside from the fact, that you confirmed our accidental meetings weren't an accident, this is all pretty inoffensive stuff. What is the point? He had an old collection of video clips of our earlier relationship. I have pictures. What does this all have to do with now?"

Sofia un-muted the TV and a string of expletives burst from the speakers. _"You goddamn fucking asshole. She is mine! Keep your fucking hands off of her or I'll kill you."_ It was a tense and twisted version of Luke's voice. The particular clip was of Sara and another man. He was young, blonde and beach boy attractive. They were walking along a park path, his arm around her. The action that set off the insulting tirade was a simple kiss on the cheek.

Sara heaved slightly and waved a shaking hand. "Please turn it off. I get the point." Her stomach churned at the outburst and she felt her earlier nausea return. "He was a good friend, nothing more. In fact, Dylan…" She indicated the man on the screen. "Was really upset that day, he'd just told his parents that he was gay. We went for a walk to try and take the edge off the whole situation."

Sofia sat back in the chair willing to let the woman in front of her have a few moments to recoup. Ecklie wasn't so kind. The interview had gone on longer than he cared to commit and it was no way near to being over. "What happened when you left for Berkeley?" His voice was harsh, his query impatient.

"Nothing... I signed up for my courses. I had intended to stay in Cambridge for the summer. I wanted to take a few extra classes and sit in on some seminars, but I ended up leaving right after year's end."

Sofia cast a dirty glance Conrad's way and threw out the next question. "Did you ever see him there? Did he ever come to visit you?"

Sara shook her head slowly. "No."

"So Las Vegas was the next time you saw him?"

"Yes. It was a shock to say the least."

The detective hit another button on the remote and the screen came to life again. "This doesn't look like Cambridge."

Sara's dark eyes closed and she shook her head. She was walking down the steps of a town house. Clothed in shorts and a tank, her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She was talking to a tall young blonde man with startling green eyes. "That's Berkeley." She swallowed hard at the bile rising through her esophagus. "I can't believe he followed me there."

"You never saw him?"

A distant look spread across her face. "No, but I wouldn't have been looking." Her voice became quiet. "I left him back in Cambridge."

"There's not a lot more of this, actually. The DVD ends shortly after. We think he followed you there, but had to go back if he wanted to keep his job."

The young CSI nodded silently. "He was signed to do a slew of seminars that summer."

All eyes went to the door as a knock sounded and a Criminalist from dayshift entered. Dropping a brown bag, and envelope on the table, he handed the detective a sheath of papers. Then after winking at the brunette being interrogated he left.

Sofia picked up the papers and perused them, a stunned look crossing her face. "Sara, where did you get five million dollars?"

The younger woman's head snapped up. "You subpoenaed my financial records? What the hell is this all about? Am I seriously a suspect? Do I need a lawyer?"

_On the other side of the mirror both men looked at each other in bewilderment._

"Just covering all of our bases..." Ecklie intoned. "Now answer the question."

Sara shook her head. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Where did you get the money? Were you blackmailing Denton?" Conrad Ecklie pressed.

"What? What the hell would I use to blackmail him?" She asked taken aback.

"He's a Doctor of Physics. He lectures and has some affiliation with both UCLA USC. He is in line for a promotion at a prominent lab. He had a lot to lose if his particular _tastes _became known… That kind of information gave you a lot of power." The assistant director pointed out. "Why not use it for financial gain?"

"I told you I was comfortable financially. You have my records. Read them. They should be self explanatory."

"Actually, they're not complete. All we have right now is a bottom line." Sofia shoved the paper over for Sara to see. "We've been having trouble attaining your full records from a," She glanced down at another sheet before continuing. "Mr. Menis. Quite honestly, he has been fighting us at every turn."

Flipping a curl back behind her ear, Sara stretched he long slim fingers out across the table, her palm face up. "Give me your cell." She sighed.

The older woman unclasped it from her belt and placed it in the outstretched hand. A moment later Sara Sidle was on hold, after having talked to a secretary named Janice. She tapped the button on the surface turning it into a speaker phone. A crusty voice broke the relative quite of the room. "Sara, love how are you? I have been trying to get in touch with you for two days. I have some hack named, uh… Ecklie, trying to access your financial statements, I wanted to talk to you first before giving him anything."

The young woman grinned and spun the phone towards the woman on the other side of the table. "I'm fine Milton; just fax out the works ASAP. I am going to hand you over to Detective Sofia Curtis and she will give you the number. Just send it attention to her."

"Okay love, are we meeting at the end of the month?"

"Sure… I'll call."

That done she stood up meaning to stretch and dropped back into her seat bonelessly, her face suddenly pale and sweaty.

"Are you okay?" The detective asked flipping her phone closed after passing on the number.

A sudden tremor wracked her body causing a noticeable tremble in her hands. "It's been about 48 hours since I had anything to eat."

Sofia's face could only be described as astounded. "Seriously…?"

_On the other side of the mirror Brass looked at his friend in wonderment. "I'm not sure about you, but where I come from taking care of someone generally includes feeding them, Gil."_

_Grissom did a double take, casting a dirty look at the older man. "She was sick." He said defensively. "Every time she opened her eyes or moved she ended up with her face in the toilet."_

"I was nauseated; I haven't been able to keep anything down. Some whack job at the hospital gave me a prescription for something I was allergic to."

The detective sat back and gawked at the woman across the table from her for a moment. "I need a coffee. Will a sandwich and juice do?"

"A sandwich may make its way back up. Soup instead? Meatless…? Vegetable…?"

"Sure…" Dropping her pen next to the papers, the blond detective left the room, leaving Sara and Ecklie grimacing at each other.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Okay... First off the next few chapters are pretty dark... kinda starting with this one but moreso the next two. So if you think that the story hasn't been that way yet, I sense that I have bumped it up a notch here. Secondly, Sara... Well we all have our own little quirks... I use that in manner of explanation for the last chapter. This really does push the M rating - especially when we slip into Chapter 18. Not for the in your face horizontal limbo or anything, but simply for the suggestion of certain unusual and quite possibly painful issues. Finally, you will get to meet someone new here. Be kind as your momma told you to be - when meeting new people. ;o)

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing, you have no idea how much I appreciate every one I get - it really does make writing so worthwhile... ;o) And the fact that you take the time makes every review special.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know you have a life outside of literature that's why I appreciate that you take so much time and effort to read and edit my story.

It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

**Final note:** This is set prior to GSR becoming canon I probably should have told you that before, but that would have spoiled all my fun.

Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

**Chapter 16**

The two people left in the room stared at each other for all of a minute before Sara stood up shakily and made her way towards the back wall and the bank of windows running across it. Most of the newer rooms were darker with windows higher than the average person could see out of. Some had none at all, but this particular interrogation room was one of the older ones. It sported an attractive view of the back parking lot, broken up by an outer sheathing of safety grating designed to keep the criminals in…

It was Ecklie who made the first move. He stood up grabbed a second DVD and placed it on top of the machine. After removing the first one he slipped the original back into the case and waved it at the young CSI. She stared at it noting the red label with her name scrawled across it. On either side of the name, Sara, there were two white hearts drawn there with what looked like a white paint marker and the year.

The tall brunette gaped at it a moment before turning away and forcing down her growing queasiness. The way she was feeling now, she doubted that she would be able to keep down anything that Sofia brought her.

Her mind roiled. Hind sight was, of course, 20/20 but there was no way that she could reconcile the press of conflicting emotions assaulting her. Mixed in with the horror of the DVD's revelations, there was the humiliation of having to detail her sex life, financial history, and most intimate feelings and fears. Add to that, the memories of pleasure and comfort that she had taken from Luke's attention and ministrations over the last months. All of these emotions persisted; to twist and mix into the disturbing haze of confusion.

"Just in case you are wondering – I do feel stupid." Tears flooded her eyes and she turned to peruse the parking lot so he couldn't see them.

"That goes without saying, but what I was really wondering was; last year when Nick was kidnapped, how come you didn't offer up one of your millions?"

What an asshole… The words ran through Sara's mind, but she didn't verbalize them. Instead, she just shook her head and continued to stare out the window. "I did. I mean, I tried. I called Milton and was told pretty much the same thing that Nick's parents were. I could get the money, but it would take time. I asked him to get started on the process, but my distribution of cash and immediately liquidable assets would not have been enough. I would have had to dump some big investments. That required at least a 24 hour waiting period. At that point, the money had already been gathered." Blinking back her tears, she waited a moment before the evidence of them was gone, and turned to the Assistant Director. "I made sure Milton changed things around, but that was after the fact and way too late to help Nick."

_At the same time in the other room Brass spat out the very words Sara had been thinking and turned to see Gil Grissom heading for the door. "No man, don't go in there. She wanted to do this alone and she won't appreciate the superman routine. Sara's tough, she can handle Ecklie."_

_Grissom's teeth were clenched and he continued towards the exit. "She just got out of the hospital, Jim, and she's not anywhere near as strong as pretends to be."_

"_I know, but she'll be pissed at you for letting her know, that you know, that..."_

_Grissom raised an eyebrow and stopped a moment trying to decipher what it was his friend was trying to say. By the time he'd unraveled it, the argument became a moot point, as Sofia re-entered the room._

"Sorry no meatless soup, veggie platter instead…" She announced dropping a pre-made plate with chopped vegetables, dip, and cheese chunks on the table in front of the CSI, along with a container of orange juice. To Ecklie she passed a coffee and waited for Sara to rejoin her at the table.

A second later they were sitting across from each other again. The tall brunette reached out and grabbed a carrot from the platter, followed by a chunk of cheese. "Have some…" She indicated the food.

Sofia shook her head and reached for the pen beside the note pad. "No thanks. My pet hamster eats three times more in one sitting. Far be it for me to deprive you of the calories."

"You have a hamster?"

"Corky." The blonde woman smiled.

A loud huff sounded from the corner, indicating Ecklie's displeasure. "Enough with the female bonding. Can we get on with this?"

Sara rolled her eyes and watched a curved brow make its way up Sofia's forehead as she turned an angry eye on her former boss. "Conrad you are here as a courtesy, don't make me ask you to leave."

The young CSI held back a smirk as she stuffed a broccoli spear into her mouth. The Assistant Director just glared. A loud knock broke the tension in the room and the same person who had delivered the other items earlier, poked his head in the door; a load of papers in his fists.

Detective Curtis retrieved them from his outstretched hand and returned to the table staring perplexed at the pile. Sara recognized them immediately and grinned. "You're broker is intent on making this job more difficult than necessary." She indicated the pile.

The young CSI stood up. "May I?" Her gaze moved from one interrogator to the other.

Sofia nodded, so the young brunette reached out and took the stack. After a few seconds of contemplation and a few minutes of sorting she had organized the information into six neat piles lying side by side. She pointed to the first pile and then made her way down the line indicating the meaning of each. "On all of these the last page will offer you a final total, a plus-minus depending on the financial weather. This one locked in or long term investments. Next risky short term, investments – easy to liquidate. This one is total cash available immediately. It's in a high interest savings account. This is a list of annual charitable donations. This is a compilation of all of my assets listed by type. This is a copy of my everyday bank statement. It looks like it covers three months and finally; this is a copy of my grandmother's wishes regarding her estate, along with the official transfer documents. You can have a forensic accountant look it over later."

The last document she held out to the detective, while Ecklie grabbed the page detailing the all of her assets.

Sofia examined the papers she had been handed for a moment. "You have a brother."

"Yes, Evan."

"He must have been pissed. Your grandmother leaves you a 1.5 million dollar home on the Vineyard, three million in assets and cash, and he gets two-hundred and fifty thousand?"

"My grandmother died when I was nineteen. I had to wait, as per her stipulation, until my twentieth birthday. Evan is six years older than me. He received his money immediately and for the next two years I was terrified to answer my phone." Nervous energy erupted inside her and she couldn't sit anymore. Drawing herself to her feet she made her way back to the window.

"Why? Did you think he would have come after you wanting more?" Ecklie asked, dropping the pages back on the table, and grabbing a copy of her bank statement.

"Noooo." The word was haggard and raw. Sara pursed her lips and forced back the tears that were beginning to threaten. "I was afraid it would be the morgue telling me that he was dead. You see, my brother is a severe drug addict. I've tried everything to get him to stop. My grandmother knew this and the money she left him was gone within 22 months." A hand went up to her forehead and she massaged it slightly as she turned gaze out at the parking lot again. "Do you realize that he spent over ten thousand dollars a month? All of it on a deadly high that could have been his last…"

_Through the darkened mirror Brass studied the woman doing the talking. She was on the verge of tears and very much internalizing the crush of emotions. He could see a flash of pain in her dark eyes just before she turned away and his heart went out to her. He had been there with Ellie; it was excruciating to watch someone you love, slowly killing themselves and being helpless to prevent it. "Did you know about this?" _

_Grissom rubbed his strong fingers along his beard and then laid his hand up against the glass. A stiff shake of his head indicated a negative response. He couldn't look at her face, his own culpability burrowing deep into his consciousness. "I know I should have asked."_

"_Yeah, you should have. Did you know about the money?"_ _The younger man just stared at his friend, unwilling to answer. It would only make him look even more callous._ _"Yeah, I thought so. What do you know?"_

"_I know I love her."_

"_Well, you have a kick-ass way of showing it, my friend."_

"Your normal bank statement shows that you've made a regular withdrawal of three thousand dollars cash, monthly, at least for the last three months." It was Ecklie making the point. "Were you being blackmailed?"

"What? So now I've gone from blackmailer, to being blackmailed…?" The words had a ring of total disgust about it. Sara rolled her eyes and held back the slew of curses that had popped into her mind. "Not that it is any of your business, but it costs me $1000 for Evan's apartment, $1000 for his health care worker to come in daily, $500 and change for his food. $300 medical insurance, $60 for his bus pass and the rest is for incidentals, clothes etc… I have receipts."

"Bus pass… Why don't you just buy him a car? You can afford it…"

Both women glared at him this time, but it was Sara who answered. "Okay, yeah I'll do that and if he manages to keep it for more than a week without selling it for a dime bag or something. I'll let him drive down your street when he's as high as a kite. You might want to watch out when you step off the curb, though." A sigh thick with exhaustion, escaped her as she dropped back into her chair. "Can we get on with this? My brother and my finances, they're unimportant, and unrelated to whatever it is that's going on."

"I'm just trying to figure out why you even bother to work when you don't have to. You're a wealthy woman Ms. Sidle."

Sara's head dropped to the table in front of her and she bounced her forehead off of it. "This…" She indicated the piles in on the table, but didn't actually look up enjoying the chill of the metal against the heat of her skin. "This makes life easier, but it doesn't make a life. Personally, I have never defined wealth in terms of money. Please, can we just go on?"

"So he shows up in Vegas." Sofia impelled.

"Yes."

"Rumor has it that you started seeing each other two months ago."

"No, almost four, we figured it was in our best interests to keep it quiet."

"Who initiated it?"

"He did, but the fact that I allowed him to was wholly circumstance. I had avoided him up to that point."

"Why?"

"Prior scarring…"

"No, I mean why did you change your mind? You said it was circumstance."

"Right..." A haunted look cast a shadow over her face, and she had to choke the words out. "Uh… It was a case. Since he worked as a floater we weren't always on the same shift, but even when he was, he and I never worked together alone. Sometimes, when there was an all call, we were on the scene at the same time, but not often. This particular night Grissom was off at a seminar, I think. Catherine handed out assignments. We drew a DB out in North Vegas. Detective Vartan worked the case with us." Sara stared at the plate of veggies still sitting on the table, but decided that it would be safer not to eat any more. "It was a little girl, six years old. Her father was a total a monster. After talking to Doc Robbins we discovered that she had been molested from the time she was two, probably raped since she was five. It was heart wrenching, but I could handle it. What I couldn't handle was the post. Doc pulled a pair of her own underwear out of her esophagus." Sara's voice had dropped almost to a whisper, at the memory. "You see, her father had shoved them into her mouth to keep her from screaming and she'd suffocated. I lost it. I didn't want to go home that morning. When he asked me to go for breakfast I went." The young brunette closed her dark eyes against the memory.

_Grissom clenched his teeth as a ball of fury ignited in his veins. He'd very specifically told Catherine not to pair her up with Denton. He wasn't always good at reading Sara. She was a lot like a 10,000 piece puzzle; all one color, difficult to figure and more complicated than imagined, but the one thing that had penetrated his usual obliviousness was that she had been very leery of the new comer. "Dammit... What was Catherine thinking?"_

"And…" Sofia prompted.

"We ended up back at his place."

"Can you give me the exact date?"

Sara stared at the detective a moment. "Is this critical?"

The blonde woman nodded.

"Okay…" She thought back; mentally tagging the time frame. "The little girl's name was Stephanie Lithman. Look it up. I would say May the19th or 20th, but I could be off a day or two."

Sofia grabbed a file that had been ignored up to this point and opened it, before nodding. Sara watched her expectantly. "Most couples fall into a pattern after a short while, did you?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Can you give a little detail?"

A heavy sigh escaped, along with the words. "We would finish work if we were on together and if we were off at the same time we would go grab something to eat or meet for breakfast at his place if one of us was running late. When we got there, we'd spend the morning hanging out, working, talking, watching TV…" She rolled her eyes and bobbed her head side to side. "You know… I would usually leave to go home at around 2, but that also depended on his shift."

"How was he, behavior wise? In comparison to your time together at Harvard..."

"He seemed different, but sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees when you are standing in the middle of it. He used to be jealous, almost controlling. When I was twenty-one, it seemed like caring. In retrospect, though, it was what it was. This time around he appeared to be a lot more relaxed. I chalked it up to him having matured, but I have to admit I was actually waiting for any indication that things hadn't changed."

"Looking for excuses, a way out, possibly?"

Sara nodded silently. "Maybe, I don't know." A hand went to her forehead to try and chase away a growing headache.

"What about sexually…?"

"His tastes really weren't all that different. I think sexually we're all wired the way we are wired. Whatever gets you off gets, you off..."

"Was he still into the…?"

Sara cut her off. "I don't know. He never brought it up. He knew the answer would be no, but then again I'm sure if the opportunity was there and his partner was willing he would have jumped right back into the whole scene. You know, yourself, that our sexual proclivities are essentially ingrained in us."

"So he still liked it rough?" The scritch of pen sounded on paper as Sofia started what appeared to be her fifth page of notes.

"Sometimes, but not as frequently, who knows? He may have toned down his preferences to allay my unease. He told me often that he wanted to do it right this time. He didn't want to lose me, again."

"What about marriage?"

"What about it?"

"Did he bring it up again?"

The young CSI's head bobbed. "Yeah, a week ago..."

"And…?"

"We had flown out to L.A. for a mayoral dinner. He started discussing it; marriage, moving to L.A. to be with him. He told me I could work in their lab if I wanted. I could pick up my Doctorial or do some teaching at the university. I was non-committal. I told him I needed to think about it. It would be a big change."

"And…?

"And what…?"

"Did you ever give him an answer?"

Sara's breath shuddered in her chest. "No." A tendril of guilt flitted through her stomach.

"Did you go shopping for engagement rings?"

The younger woman's eyebrows popped up. "No… Even if I had said yes, he wouldn't have bought an engagement ring. He had a beautiful family heirloom. I think it was about two carats. He showed it to me at Harvard."

The Detective reached in the brown paper bag and pulled out a brillian blue case. "Is this it? It was found amongst his effects." She placed it on the table and slid it across to the woman in front of her.

With trembling hands, Sara Sidle slipped her fingers around the soft box and flipped it open. Bile rose at the sight of the glittering diamond and she nodded unable to trust that she could keep down the small amount of food she'd ingested.

Sofia threw her chin towards it. "You might want to read the inscription."

Actually, she didn't want to. Somehow she knew that if she did, she would end up bearing the weight of more recriminations, but it was a little like witnessing a train wreck; unable to watch, yet curiously unable to turn away. Involuntarily, she reached out and touched the cool metal of the ring and hefted it out of the box. It was lighter than she had expected, the physical load belying the burden of the responsibility that it represented. Her eyes fell on the band and she leaned in to examine the words, dropping it immediately when she caught a full glimpse of her name and the preceding expression.

_To my only love Sara, LD_

She felt instantly nauseous and brought her arms around to hug herself. "I…" The words were lodged in her throat. "I didn't know."

"Any idea when he might have had it inscribed?"

Sara simply shook her head.

"We think it might have been recently. There are still metal flecks on it, and in the box."

"He may have had it done the first time around and perhaps hadn't handled it, since." The young CSI suggested.

"Do you think he did?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you." Sara looked away from the foreboding piece of metal and couldn't bring herself to touch it again.

"You told us this morning that he had never been to your place. Can I ask why?" Sofia twirled her pen between her fingers, a lot like a baton.

"We just never went there."

"You mean to say, you dated the man for four months and never once took him back to your place for dinner? A movie…? Sex…?" Ecklie dragged out the last word, making it all sound incredibly sordid.

"No."

"He never asked to come over?" The Assistant Director reiterated the question.

"Yes, once. Then I told him I had a dog and that was the last I heard of it."

"There was no evidence of a dog living in your apartment and we went over it with a fine tooth comb. So you deceived him?" Ecklie seemed please to have caught her in what he thought was a certain lie.

"No. I do have a dog, his name is Tofu. He's a tiny yorkie, maybe 4 lbs." Sara impaled the bald man with a glare. "He was evidence in a case 10 months back. I processed him and logged what I'd found. I had to shave him during the collection; he looked like an oversized rat. When I took him to the shelter they told me that he might not get adopted because he looked so pathetic. They also said they would only keep him for a short time before putting him down. He helped crack the case, so I couldn't leave him there. It was only fair that someone give him a good home." Her gaze shifted between the two people on the other side of the table. Both appeared skeptical so she went on. "My neighbor Mrs. Chan watches him when I'm not home. She is visiting her sister in Ohio for two weeks. Tofu's with her. When he goes over I usually just put all of his stuff in a diaper bag. Luke was highly allergic to cats, dogs, rabbits… most small animals. His entire face swelled up one time. Once he knew I had a dog, his visiting became a non issue and I didn't push it."

"There wasn't one dog hair in the entire place, Ms. Sidle." Ecklie announced; his hand slipping into the brown bag.

"I have a maid come in twice a week, he's been gone 6 days, and he doesn't shed much… I don't know…" She threw her hands up, devoid of an irrefutable explanation. "But he does exist."

"So if what you say is true and Luke Denton has never been to your place, we need to know who these belong to." He pulled out several plastic bindles and laid them on the table side by side. Inside were blue swatches of material with invisible stains outlined in black permanent marker.

Sara recognized the pieces of her mattress immediately and stood up angrily. She'd been doing her best to be cooperative, but the whole situation was insane. "You have got to be kidding me… I've lived here for six years. I'm not promiscuous, but I'm not a nun either… Jesus!" She began to pace her gait unsteady. "I can't believe you cut up my mattress. It cost me $2000. This is mind-boggling."

"It's not like you can't afford to replace it." Ecklie smirked.

The young woman was tempted to tell him to fuck right off. In fact, the words flitted through her brain and stuck in her esophagus, but she wouldn't allow them to escape her mouth. Instead she turned to the window and stood silently for a moment, trying to gather her temper. When she turned back the only indication of her distress and anger were the unshed tears in her eyes. Her voice was soft. "What do you want from me?"

The former day shift supervisor pulled out a stack of papers and laid them on the table. "We have a network failure. CODIS, and Compliance are both down. The lab managed to determine that there are three male contributors and two female, before the whole system crashed. We pulled Luke's DNA, but weren't able to run it. We need names and verbal confirmation from each of the donors."

"No goddamn way." She shook her head. "And if I don't?"

"Then you'll end up spending the night in a holding cell."

"What? Why? Whatever happened to professional courtesy? A little trust maybe?" Sara stared into the mirror her face saying it all.

_Grissom wanted to go to her, but Brass was right. She had chosen to do this alone. She would call him if she needed him, but that realization didn't make it any easier. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from bursting into the interrogation room and throttling Ecklie._

"_That man is an asshole, and he's enjoying every minute of this." Jim Brass turned away from the look on the slender brunette's face yet again. He couldn't stand to see her so upset._

"Your financial situation makes you a flight risk."

Shaking her head she just gaped at him open-mouthed, before reaching out a trembling hand. "Fuck-it, give me the phone."

Sofia grabbed it off the table where she'd left it and passed it to the young woman. She could tell that she was on the verge of a total melt down, but could do little to help her.

"I'm not into women. The other female donor has to be my friend Julia. She was in town a while back. I gave her the keys and let her stay at my place. At the time she was with her boyfriend of the week. In think his name was Lars." The phone was already ringing by the time she hit the speaker button on it. It twittered four times and Sara was beginning wonder if her friend was going to answer when a cheerful voice popped out of the small device.

"This better be good. I'm getting ready to go out…" A high pitched musical voice bounced melodically out of the phone.

Sara grinned slightly at the sound of the other woman's words. "Jules?"

A screech of recognition broke free from the speaker. "Sara, geez…! Where have you been? Gina has been trying to call you for the last three days. She has us doing it too. Where are you?"

"Um… at the police station and I don't have a lot of time. I need you to answer a question honestly for me and before we go any further I have you on a speaker phone." Sara dropped exhaustedly into the chair. She was beginning to get the shakes again and absently reached out and grabbed another chunk of cheese, forcing it down and willing it to stay there.

"Sure shoot."

"Uh… remember when you were here before Christmas?"

"Yeah…."

"I know I told you and Lars to use my bed because I was working. Did you?"

"Yeah…"

"Listen, I'm sorry for the next question, but did you two have sex in the bed too?"

"Jesus, Sara…" There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice when she responded.

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important Jules."

"Who's listening to this? Will you be pissed off with me if I did?"

Sara skipped over the first question and answered only the second. "No I won't be mad, promise."

"Okay… Well, have you ever known me not to make use of a hot body in my bed?"

A smile spread across the young CSI's face and she pursed her lips. "Is that a yes?"

"Yeah, he boned me… You sure you're not pissed?"

"No… I'm not. Lars is a cop right? What's his last name?"

"Vans… And yeah he just made Detective last month."

"Thanks Jules, I'll call you later."

"Sara, wait…"

"Yeah…"

"Everything okay…? You sound funny."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, listen call Gina… She really needs to talk to you."

"I will as soon as I get home. Bye." Sara reached across the table and tapped the end button. "Lars is a cop with the SFPD. Julia Mendez will also be in compliance; she is a CSI Level 2, same city."

"And the other two male donors…?" Ecklie prompted.

The young woman focused on the table top for a moment before bringing a shaking hand to her forehead. "Number one is a guy I dated about four years ago. We were friends for 8 months and lovers for about three. He lives here and _you_ will have to contact him."

"We need a name…" Ecklie prompted.

Sara rolled her eyes in disbelief. "He's an EMT, Hank Peddigrew."

"Do you have a number for him?"

"No… You are so on your own with this." She shook her head.

"Fine… The second guy…?"

"Christ, Is this honestly necessary? It's really no one's business…" The slim brunette, turned her eyes away from the rest of the people in the room, and focused instead on the camera mounted above the door.

"Was it Grissom?" Ecklie sneered, so certain that he had caught them in a position of impropriety.

Sara spun her head to look at him in surprise. "What the hell?" The young woman's hand trembled as it flicked at a speck on the table. "No…" She said slowly. Her gaze settled on the detective and she asked again. "Is this really necessary?"

"I'm sorry, Sara…" It was Sofia this time.

Her hand stretched across the table and grabbed the dormant cell phone again. "I may not be able to get in touch with him. He's pretty busy." Dialing the number she put the phone to her ear and waited for an answer.

The line picked up immediately. After the girl had announced whose office it was, Sara clicked the speaker once again and dropped the phone on the table. "Hi, Kelsey…?" Sara asked, not immediately recognizing the voice on the other end, but knowing who it should be.

"Uh no… Emma, Kelsey is on mat leave."

"Oh sorry, I'm Sara Sidle, a friend of Dennis' is he in?"

"Miss Sidle? Dennis isn't in, but he has left you a message, actually."

Shock registered on her face. "Okay…?"

"Um… Excuse the language but… It says and I quote – Sara, where the fuck are you? You have me worried sick. I have left you a fucking million messages. Fucking call me."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Ah… Okay…? Did he leave a number where I can reach him?"

"Yes, it's his cell." The secretary rattled off the number and mid way through it Sara stopped her.

"Thanks, that's the one I have." She closed the phone and dialed her friend's cell. Unsure as to whether she should put him on speaker-phone, she hesitated a second and then hit the button once again. Three rings later a deep southern accent boomed out of the small speaker.

"Maitland..." The man on the other end announced.

"Denny… hey…"

"Hold on…" In the background you could hear the strains of other voices; terse good-byes and then the owner of the phone was immediately back on the line. "Jesus fuck, Sara where the hell've you been? Hold on again… Jimmy, go pick up my stuff I'll call you with directions. Baby doll, I've been trying to get in touch with you since Monday evening."

The young CSI managed to mutter a short "_uh_…" before he cut her off and went on.

"I must've called you a million times. I finally gave up calling your house, started calling your cell. Some fucking ass, finally, answered yesterday afternoon and told me you were at the hospital. I went by there on my way to dinner at the Mayor's house - a dinner I wanted you to attend with me - and you weren't there. Was the guy just plain fucking stupid or were you really in the fucking hospital?"

"I was in the hospital, but only for about a day."

"What happened?" Concern suddenly laced his words. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I actually didn't get any of your messages. I called your office on another matter and your secretary told me that you were looking for me. You're in Vegas?"

"They don't keep _fine_ people in the hospital for 24 hours. I'm on a flight out of here in three hours and I need to see you before I leave. Where, the fuck, are you?"

"You first…" She had a feeling she already knew.

"Fucking shit, hold on again…. Jesus H Christ Jimmy, just do what I goddamn asked you to… Okay, Sara… I just finished a meeting with your boss, and your boss', boss. I'm at LVPD. Your turn…"

"Me too, first floor, interview room 2 near the back entrance."

"Are you working?"

"Nope..."

"And you called me on another matter?"

"Yup…"

"Is everything okay?"

"Not really…"

There was a knock at the door and the line went dead. Sofia opened it and stepped back; her jaw dropping. The tall man in the hall was absolutely gorgeous and flawlessly dressed in a navy Armani suit. Blonde and chiseled with a perfect set of teeth, the man smiled at her and the hardened Detective did something she hadn't done since high school; she actually swooned.

His startling green eyes flitted her way momentarily and then immediately went past her to rest on the young woman seated at the table. Still trying to recover Sofia swallowed hard and then realized that she'd seen him before. He was the man on the steps with Sara at Berkeley, the one from the video.

The younger woman looked up at her old friend; rose from her chair and smiled at him. With three steps he was across the room holding her in a tight embrace. He immediately let go when the woman in his arms let out a soft cry of pain. "Fuck… sorry… what happened… where are you hurt?"

"It's nothing, just a little scar under my ribs." She motioned in the general direction of the injury. "And I have a bandage on my neck."

"Let me see…" He reached for Sara's top, tugged it upward, before she could stop him. He saw the fist sized hematoma before he saw the actual bandage. "Holy shit Sara, this is a bullet wound. It's not _nothing_. What the fuck happened?"

"An accident at a scene. The Doctor said it's only a flesh wound." Grateful her track top was long enough not to ride up in the back, as well, she grabbed the loose material from him and pulled it back down before anyone caught sight of the bruises on her back. Wrapping her arms around herself, she secured her hands under her elbows.

"Accident at a scene…?" He repeated, his face twisting in anger. "Isn't that why you were called here to begin with? To investigate another fucking shooting, but that one was fatal. There have to be at least ten fucking stitches there."

"Denny, I'm fine…"

His hand moved around her neck and he gently shifted the dark curls there aside, to reveal the second injury and another set of stitches. "What the fuck is it with this place?" His eyes moved to the other two people in the room. "Do you people routinely use your CSIs for target practice?"

Ecklie moved to say something, but was cut off by Sara.

The young woman held up a hand and waved both men off. "Enough. I'm fine." She said a bit unsteadily. "I need you to introduce you…" She pointed to the other woman first. "This is Detective Sofia Curtis." Dennis just nodded, and cast a suspicious look at her, his hand protectively finding its way to the small of Sara's back. "And this is the Assistant Director of the lab Conrad Ecklie. Um…" She turned to the man beside her and gripped his elbow. "This is Dennis Maitland, District Attorney for the city and county of San Francisco." She pointed at the two people staring at her. "They have something they need to ask you." To her two interrogators she simply said, "Go for it." Before she turned away and moved back towards the window before the fireworks began.

Sara knew she could have made it easy on them by explaining the situation and asking the question herself. Dennis would have answered - no problem, but she was exhausted, humiliated, and all of it at the hands of the two people standing across from her. She wanted to share a little of her discomfort with them and if anyone could deliver an increased level of discomfiture, it would be her friend. His language alone would put a trucker to shame, though his true skill lay in interrogation and negotiation.

Through a reflection in the window, she could see Dennis cast a glance her way before placing his hands on his hips, and dropping his head to the side. "Okay…"

Ecklie and Curtis looked at each other as if to tell the other to go ahead. A moment passed when no one spoke, Ecklie, decided to play alpha male. Stepping forward and pulling himself up to his full height, he adopted an authoritative tone. "In a case we're investigating, we've pulled swatches from Ms. Sidle's mattress. We are trying to match seminal donors with the samples recovered. She claims that you are one of them. We simply need a verbal confirmation or negation and you will be free to go."

The blonde man's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You can't be fucking serious?" Anger flared in his eyes and he turned to Sara. "They can't be fucking serious!"

She continued to stare out the window glad to have someone as blown away by the request as she had been. "They are… I already had to make a few calls. It's a good thing I don't sleep around or I'd have damn sore fingers." She muttered.

"Haven't you people ever heard of CODIS? Compliance…? I know Robert runs a state of the art facility. I assumed his people were of the same quality. Am I wrong Mr. Ecklie? Almost any first grade flunky can operate the databases."

"The system is down Mr. Maitland." Conrad was angry, but the casual use of Director Cavallo's first name set off warning bells. Clearly Sara's friend was connected and then there was the reference to dinner at the Mayor's. Gritting his teeth he swallowed his pride and apologized. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's no inconvenience to me Mr. Ecklie. It's my friend here you should apologize to. Have you never heard of _professional courtesy_? She is after all a respected and trusted employee of your lab; shouldn't she be treated as such?"

"Of course we value and trust Ms. Sidle. It's just that the delicate nature of this case, combined with the fact that she is financially able to flee the country, makes it difficult for us to just allow her to just walk out of here on her own recognizance. Normally, where a suspect is concerned a verbal confirmation would not be enough, we would hold them for 24 hours until a match could be made though proper channels, but because she is an employee. We are extending her the professional courtesy of handling the situation this way. However, I can't just let her go, based on her own say so. It would look inappropriate, in the public eye if it was discovered that we just released her without first gathering enough evidence to indicate that Ms. Sidle was not involved."

"Okay then let's try a few more phrases. Like _due process oh and here's a biggie… discretion._"

"We have been very discreet in our investigation. Everyone called in has been strictly on a need to know basis. Due process only comes into play when a person has been arrested and we have extended as much professionally courtesy as possible without exhibiting any impropriety." Ecklie was clenching his teeth and doing his best not to betray his increasing anger.

"So what does the humiliation of having to verbally verify one's sexual encounters fall under? Discretion or professional courtesy…? Due process is an interesting concept here too Mr. Ecklie, considering it demands that the government and those who represent it respect the rights of the individual. I believe this applies both prior to and after arrest. Have you respected Ms. Sidle's rights? My friend looks upset, perplexed and embarrassed." Playing a hunch he turned to the tall brunette slumped up against the back window. "Do you know why you're in here Sara?"

"Based on the questions I've been asked, I have an idea…"

"But no one has ever actually told you why you are being questioned?"

The young woman simply shook her head and leaned it up against the window. The sky was a malevolent gray.

"Okay and how many people have been discreetly asked to work on this?" He stepped closer to the former supervisor, now clearly invading his personal space. Almost toe-to-toe with the man, Dennis stared down at him and waited for the Assistant Director back away.

Ecklie did so almost immediately. "Only those necessary…"

"What five? Ten…? All of them people who work with Sara? Don't you think maybe this compromises my friend's reputation and ultimately the way her colleagues will look at her in the future? You know how the gossip mill works Assistant Director…"

"We do have the right to conduct an investigation, especially with the gravity of the situation."

"Agreed… depending on what the term, gravity, means to you, but being her boss, and someone who has, in the past, had an altercation with Ms. Sidle, do you honestly think that being involved in this investigation is apposite? You speak of propriety, but everything you've done sounds wholly inappropriate. This all smacks of a witch hunt and possibly something you are enjoying at Sara's expense."

"I resent the implication Mr. Maitland."

"Good…"

"Stop…" The word was uttered softly, but it held weight with the man doing most of the talking. Sara heaved herself away from the view of the back parking lot and slowly made her way over to the two men. Her cool slim fingers gripped Dennis Maitland's own and she squeezed them warmly. "Denny I know you're concerned, but just answer the question for them, please." She pulled her hand away and cast a glance at Sofia, who had been observing the pissing match from in front of the two-way mirror.

He placed his hands on his hips and considered his friend's face for a moment. There was an inordinate amount of hurt there and he knew his questions and arguments were adding to it. Slipping his hand around her waist, he cast a feral look at the bald man. "Yes Mr. Ecklie. I am one of the donors."

"You could have saved a lot of time if you had just answered the question when you were first asked."

Dennis Maitland smirked. "I'm a lawyer. I like to make things difficult. It's my nature." His hand slid possessively up Sara's back and it was all she could do to keep from moaning in pain. The bruises there were still tender to the touch, but she said nothing. "That being the case, I also would like ten minutes to talk to my friend."

Ecklie shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry we can't do that."

"You can and you will, because if you do, I will leave here and go home soon after, but if you don't, I'll be sitting in as Sara's council for the rest of this interview."

Conrad cast a look at Sofia, before returning his attention to the tall blonde man still in front of him. "In order to practice law in Nevada, you need to be licensed here; your San Francisco law degree holds no value in this jurisdiction."

"I'm licensed to practice law in 15 states. Nevada is one of them." He cocked his head in the assistant lab director's direction. "So ten minutes or the next 48 hours, what will it be?"

Sofia was already on her way out of the room. Sara though she saw a tendril of smoke rise from the top of Conrad Ecklie's head as he stomped silently out behind her, the door slamming in his wake. Leaving her alone to face an interrogation of another sort.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. I know your life has gotten busier with the start of school and such, so thanks so much for all of your effort. It is important that you know that this story is actually complete. I have finished the full draft of it. It is typed and formatted for posting as well, we are just in the editorial process now, so I will not leave you hanging for eons.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

The language is a little um... nasty - as it was in the last chapter - I don't mean to offend but the character has a life of his own.

Thanks to all of my reviewers... You are a special lot... And you have turned me into a review junkie... ;o)

****

**Chapter 17**

"He's pissed." Sara stared up at her friend and smirked.

"I don't give a fuck, are you?"

"No." Sara shifted slightly away from his hold so she could look at his face. "Denny, we're alone, but we're not alone…" She threw a chin at the two-way and turned away from it.

"I know those two will be in there. Who else…?"

"Grissom…"

The young DA turned to look at the mirror wishing he could catch a glimpse of the elusive Dr. Grissom. "Ahh… The eminent Doctor Grissom. Why isn't he in here?"

"I needed to do this alone." She turned away from him indicating that she had no desire to continue the conversation. "God, I feel like that little six year-old that used to follow you around hanging off your shirt tales." Sara moved back towards the window and glanced out. There were storm clouds rolling in.

"You can hang off my shirt tales anytime, baby doll." The blonde man moved over to the table and leaned against it, his eyes sizing up the state of his childhood friend. She was thinner than the last time he'd seen her and she appeared to be a little unsteady on her feet.

"I'm so sorry about this… I told you our indiscretion would come around and bite us in the ass." Her finger painted a flower on the window.

"You know, you've never been an indiscretion to me. If I thought for one moment that I was the person you wanted to be with, I would have packed up my career and moved here long ago. I could have hung a placard out on North Las Vegas Blvd., offering cheap divorces for all those fools who get drunk and decide to get married. I'd be a wealthy man, but you and I both know that that's not what you want…"

Sara simply smiled sadly at him and heaved a quiet sigh.

"So what is this all about?" He continued to lean back against the table his arms folded in front of him.

Her head shook slowly. "I'm not sure. I just know it has something to do with Luke."

"I'm not surprised." He motioned for her to come over to him.

"Jesus Denny, you met him for five minutes." Her brows knitted and she looked down at her feet, watching as they obeyed and carried her back to stand in front of him.

"I read people for a living Sara. When I saw you last Friday, I didn't like the way he looked at you. I _really_ didn't like the way he looked at the men who looked at you. And when Ed Malcolm came over to talk to you that night, the look in his eye was the same one, I've seen only in the eyes of men strapped down to a table with a needle in their arm." Maitland's face was deadly serious as his strong hands came up and massaged her shoulders. A small tug moved her directly in front of him, he spread his knees slightly and pulled her in almost chest-to-chest with him. In doing this, he could get a closer look at her face, and most importantly he gave her a reprieve from prying eyes in the other room.

Sara looked at him and remained silent so he continued. "I'm surprised… No comment on my observation… Am I wrong?"

"Do you want me to argue with you?" Long fingers went up to his tie and she ran its silkiness between her fingers. "I trust your opinion, but you are making huge assumption based on a really short first impression. I read people for a living, too."

"You were way to close to the situation and your judgment was clearly compromised. You know, I actually talked to y'all for maybe five minutes, but I watched you for the whole night and the man was obsessed. He never showed it to your face, but I could see it. Why do you think I asked you, what I did, before you left?"

Sara looked away for a moment her lips pursed tightly. Luke knew her far to well. "I think, they think he hurt someone. They also seem tothink I was involved, somehow." Sara's eyes became distant; the last part of her comment was barely above a whisper.

"Well the latter part of that supposition is pure bullshit. Anyone who knows you; knows that's justnot possible. The first part might be true though." His hand came up to her cheek and he gently tucked a few loose curls behind he ear. "But then you already know that, don't you?"

His hand moved to her chin and he forced her to look at him. She tried to turn away and attempted to swallow down the emotions threatening to spill over into her eyes. She lost both battles as tears formed and he held her face fast. "Jesus, fuck Sara…" He was about to continue, when her hand went to his mouth and she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

_Luke Denton had hurt her. _

The message, though, undetectable to anyone simply watching, came across loud and clear. She didn't want to talk about it here. One hand slipped between buttons of his dress shirt, and she gripped the material, much like she had done when she was little and terrified. "Where the fuck is he now? Have they arrested _him_?"

"He's dead. He was killed in the same accident I was injured in."

Dennis Maitland's mouth dropped, and his green eyes darkened in fury. "This is getting fucking worse by the minute. Sara…" He pleaded. "Come home, baby doll. You have friends and family who love you in San Fran. Come home, before we have to have you shipped back in a wooden box. It's not safe for you here."

A deep sigh of regret shifted between her parted lips as his thick hands came up to grip her waist. "This _is _my home, Denny."

"Sara darlin', home is where the heart is. Is your heart, really, still here?" Green eyes searched brown as he tried to read all of the emotions held in them.

Her reply was silent; a scarcely perceptible nod and a sad smile. Her heart was trapped in a painful cycle and the only way to escape it would be to rip it out completely.

"Okay…" He indicated the room. "How serious is all of this?"

"Serious enough that they managed to get a warrant for my place."

"Do you know the grounds?"

Sara shook her head. "One minute I was puking my guts out, the next I'm spewing out information about my sex life, finances, positional preferences… It's all been very cathartic in a twisted sort of way."

"What kind of questions have they been asking you?"

"Everything about our relationship..."

"You need a lawyer, Sara…"

"No. I have to trust that if I answer honestly, this will all take care of itself. I haven't done anything wrong Denny. It will all work out in the end."

"Darlin', the jails are full of people who thought that way."

A shrill ring broke the air and Dennis' hand went immediately to his pocket. He held it up for her to see the name on the screen. "The son of a bitch needs me to spoon feed him everything." He flipped the phone open and snapped it closed.

Sara let out a soft giggle. "That poor man, he's probably a walking ulcer. You really should be nicer to him."

"We have a special evidentiary hearing on the Nelder case tomorrow."

"The father who killed his family and took out the neighbors, too…?"

"Yup…" His hands reached down and took hers, his thumb playing with the indentation of the scar on her palm. "I'm going to tell Jimmy to go home and I'll have one of my assistants step in."

"No. You're going to go catch your flight back like a good little DA. I'll be fine."

"Sara, I can't leave you here by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. The people here aren't quite as insane as you guys, but they're great. I haven't been alone for one minute since I as hurt. I'm in good hands. Promise..."

"This doesn't feel right. Abandoning you here… Twisting in the wind…"

"California is a good place for you, you're being overly dramatic. You did what I needed you to do. You copped to a night of misdirected amorousness. You've helped more than you know. Go home."

"I'll be your first call if things get worse… right?"

"You will."

"Okay…" He reached into his pocket. "This is for you." He held out a small lavender envelope. "Gina asked me to personally deliver it to you."

Sara took it from him, her fingers gliding over the embossed letters spelling out… _You're invited_. "Is this what she's been calling me about?"

"Yup…"

"Is it what it looks like?"

"Yup…"

"Wow… so who popped the question?"

"Jake and I don't think pop would be the right word, unless you're referring to the sound his balls made as they deflated. I swear she had them in a vice grip." Dennis threw one of his kilowatt smiles at her.

Sara's mouth dropped open. "You're a mean man. Maybe they love each other." She suggested wistfully.

"Get real Sara, Gina's biological clock has been beating like a bass drum for a while. It finally jumped to warp speed and Jake was the only guy she could strong arm into marrying her."

"Aren't we all hearts and roses?"

"With the right person..." He grinned at her tousled her curls. "I can tell her you'll be there right?"

"Ah yeah, when is it?"

"Saturday..."

"This Saturday...?"

"Why do you think she's been so frantic?"

"Nothing like a short notice..." She shook her head sadly. "There's no way I can be in San Fran on Saturday."

"Well they decided Monday that they were getting married. She hand wrote out the invitations on Tuesday morning and dropped yours off to me, because she knew I was coming here. Open it."

Sara's trembled slightly as she broke the seal, pulled out the flowered card, and flipped it open. "12 pm. The Heavenly Bliss Wedding Chapel. 4th St. North Las Vegas…?" She smiled. "Is everyone coming?"

"Yeah, you may have a few crashers at your place, so now I can tell her you'll be there, right?"

"Provided, I'm not wearing prison orange…" She smirked tightly.

"You know what? I'm going to stay."

"No. You're going to go. This is a big case for your career. You know the mayoral bid and all that."

"Fuck my career. You are way more important." He slipped his two arms around her shoulders as if to embrace her and then rested his forehead on hers.

"Thank you for that, but the families of the victims are more important. I'll be fine." She grinned at him, as he moved his forehead from hers and planted a kiss in the very same spot. Keeping one arm around her he made his way over to the door pulling her along with him. "You'll call me if you need me, right?"

Sara rolled her eyes and sagged. "Yes…"

"Should I bring Christina or do you want to be my date?"

"Huh?"

"Saturday..."

"Denny, she's your girlfriend, you have to bring her."

"She's been an uber-bitch lately and frankly I'm about to end it. If you would rather not see her, I'll kick her to the curb, and we can go together."

"God... What is the matter with you two? I swear you go through the seven year itch on a six month cycle."

"She'll make the day miserable for both of us."

"I'm not going with you."

"Fine…" He grinned. His hand was on the door, and he stopped and turned. "I saw Evan and Laura last week."

A flutter of pain clouded her complexion a moment and then she nodded softly. "Together?"

"Ah… No…Evan was in my office. He came to see me."

Sara hesitated a moment before asking. "He must have been pretty lucid to find his way there. Is he okay?"

"Yeah…"

"You didn't give him any money, did you?"

"No," Dennis shook his head. "He didn't ask for any."

"Then what did he want?"

"To know about you… How you're doing and if you're happy."

"Wow…"

"Yeah… you know I think he's…"

"Nope…!" Sara cut him off and shook her head sorrowfully. "I know what you're going to say and no. I rode that roller coaster for almost twenty years. I finally got off and am watching from the ground. At this point it will either slow and stop, or eventually crash and burn, but I refuse to climb back on. I simply can't."

His hand went up and caressed one of her lightly freckled cheeks. "I understand. I'll keep an eye on him for you."

"If everything is okay, I'll fly out in a few weeks."

"Not going to ask about Laura?"

"Nope..."

"She has a big day coming up soon and she wanted to know if I could get you to come and spend it with her."

"No."

"Okay…" He pulled her in for a soft kiss on the mouth. "Bye." With that he opened the door; leaving a trembling Sara Sidle behind.

He was actually supposed to turn left to leave the building, but instead he turned right and reached for the door to the observation room as it suddenly flew open. "Hear anything probative?" He enquired as Sofia and Ecklie made to exit.

The Assistant Director simply glared him.

"Before you go back in there, can I give you a little advice?" The question was actually rhetorical as he was completely blocking the door and clearly had no intention of moving until he'd had his say. "You are way off base, here. Whatever you have or whatever you think you have. You have it misconstrued. I think that if you ask the right questions. You will find that she is a victim in all of this."

Sofia was the first to respond. "Well she's been co-operative, but she hasn't been very forthcoming."

"Would you be in her position? She will answer only the questions you are asking and volunteer nothing. You are questioning her integrity and exposing her private life for all to judge. I can tell you, that if I'm right and she is a victim, she'll not share this information with you, easily. Think about whatever 'evidence' you have and how else it can be interpreted. Try that tact and share with her. She is a professional and a colleague for fucks sake." With that said he stepped out of their way and waited as the two of them re-entered the interrogation room. Then he cast a glance through the doorway they had just abandoned and found two pairs of eyes staring curiously back at him.

One of the men was clearly a cop. He had the look and feel of a man who had pounded a beat for some time before moving up in the ranks. The other one, the taller and clearly younger of the two men sported a beard and was dressed in a dark button down polo shirt with matching pants. He gathered that this was Sara's Grissom. Not by any description that she had given him, but rather the air of geek that clung to him like a well-worn piece of clothing. His face was curious, impassive, and almost expectant as Dennis gazed at him. The DA waved and was about to turn away when his conscience got the better of him and he did a full 360 and stepped into the room.

"You must be Dr. Grissom." He held his palm out to the man with the beard and waited for him to take it. It only took a moment before a sturdy hand found it's way to his and enfolded it with a strong grip. "Can we talk in private?"

Grissom turned to look at Jim and then returned his focus to the man in front of him. "If you have something to say you can say it in front of Detective Brass. He's a friend."

"Of yours or Sara's…?" He enquired uncertainly

"Both."

"Okay then." He closed the door behind him and took in the two men once again before beginning. "Sara will kill me if she finds out that we're having this conversation."

Gil Grissom held up a hand. "Discretion and hard valor are the twins of honor."

"If a cause be good, the most violent attack of its enemies will not injure it so much as an injudicious defense of it by its friends." Dennis countered.

Surprised and sensing that the man in front of him was learned enough to possibly match him quote for quote, Grissom reiterated his position without the literary foray. "If it will upset Sara, then perhaps you shouldn't say anything." He said plainly.

"No, I should. In fact I need to. You see six years ago my best friend left her home, her friends and the people who love her, to come here at your request and she stayed because you asked her to. She didn't need the job; she was on her way up in her own department. Everyone thought she was crazy when she decided to pack up and move to Vegas. I was the only one who didn't ride her about it. Instead, I wished her luck, because I love her enough to want to see her happy. In retrospect, I think I did her a disservice at the time, because as far as I can see, ever since coming here she has been treated to one huge mind fuck courtesy of you. You have jerked her around hell west and crooked. Now when I look in her eyes I can see that she's been severely traumatized…"

Grissom shook his head and piped up before the blonde man could go on. "She's traumatized because the man she loved was shot down in front of her two days ago." He intoned gruffly.

Dennis shook his head, his green eyes flashing. "No, the man she _loves _is very much alive and standing in this room. It's not me, and unless you think it is him…" He pointed towards Brass. "You have a 100 chance of getting it right." Stepping closer so the older man didn't miss what he said next. "I saw her at a dinner last week with Luke Denton. When she was leaving I asked her what she was doing with him. Did she love him? You know what she said?" The question was obviously rhetorical, so he didn't wait for an answer. "Not I love him, not even he's hot and he's fucking my brains out. She told me 'Denny, he takes the edge off.' The Sara I know would never even have gotten involved with that guy again. You know their history?"

Gil was chagrined to admit it. "I just found out now."

Denny seemed to accept this as though he had expected it. "She knew he was bad news. She new she was playing with fire and _he_ knew she was vulnerable. She was going to end it and he hurt her. I'm not sure how, but I know he did. And that's your fault. You took her from her safety network and offered her nothing to replace it." The ringing of his phone, reminded him that he had a plane to catch so he turned and placed his hand on the doorknob before turning back to Gil Grissom. "You have one more chance Dr. Grissom. Fuck her around again, I guarantee you I will make her an offer she can't refuse and she will come back home with me." He pulled the door open leaving a stunned entomologist in his wake. Before disappearing through it though, he spun around one last time. "Our friend Gina is getting married, as you've no doubt heard. Most of the people attending will be in couples. She may feel uncomfortable. Why don't you start by asking to escort her?" With that said he was gone.

Brass stared at his friend a tense smirk decorating his face.

"What?" Grissom inquired grumpily.

Jim Brass shook his head and grinned completely this time. "I don't know about you, but I like the guy."

Gil Grissom's reply was something Brass had only heard emanate from his mouth less than a handful of times, in all of the years he'd known him. "Fuck off, Jim!" He growled dangerously.

A short guffaw escaped the detective's chest and he took in the young brunette sitting, rather defeated, at the interview table. What Dennis Maitland had said was dead on. The two friends hadn't had many discussions regarding Sara, because Gil Grissom was an intensely private person, _much_ as the young woman herself was, but occasionally when he'd had a little too much bourbon after a rough night, the man would refer to her almost wistfully, as though she were some intangible enigma. His earlier profession of love was the first time the older CSI had ever verbally acknowledged his true feelings for his former student. Jim only hoped that the DA's shove would be enough to force the timid entomologist to act on them.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best, and your patience is extraordinary.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

Depending on what you are used to - this chapter is dark. This is also a fairly long chapter. That said enjoy.

Thanks to all of my reviewers... You are a special lot... And you have turned me into a review junkie... ;o) More more more... see what I mean...

**Chapter 18**

"What?" It was Sara's voice that broke through the speaker causing Brass to return his focus to the actual interrogation.

"Sorry…" Sofia had been looking over the report she held in her hands. Trying to do exactly what the DA from San Francisco had said interpret the evidence another way… She decided at that moment to follow his advice. "Did you know that Luke had cameras hidden in his apartment?"

The younger woman's face went from white to red in a matter of seconds, then she pursed her lips and turned her eyes away; shaking her head silently. "No…" The word was long and drawn out. A quivering hand came up and she animatedly pulled her hair back from her face. "God… is there even a word for _beyond humiliation_? Fuck…"

"As it turns out he kept a visual record of all of his sexual encounters."

Sara Sidle slid a little lower in her chair and dropped her head onto the table.

"What's the matter?" The blonde detective asked almost nonchalantly.

A short, pained laugh popped out of the CSI's mouth. "I don't know about you, but being made the unwitting star of some tawdry homemade porno flick causes me more than a little embarrassment."

"Me too…"

Sara's head came up off the table immediately and she looked at the blonde woman across from her. "Shit… wow… all of his encounters?"

Sofia simply nodded a slight flush coming to her cheeks.

The young CSI grimaced and then pursed her lips. Luke's list of partners had been extensive. He had literally slept his way through the lab and probably half of the police department, before he'd stopped at Sara. There would be a lot of red faces if he'd filmed them all. Her expression sobered. "I'm really sorry…"

"For what…?" Sofia looked at Sara, surprise evident on her face.

"No one deserved any of this. I'm embarrassed enough; nobody else should have to suffer."

"Misery, loves company."

Sara stared at the woman wide-eyed for a moment and then shook her head. "You see, I have never understood that phrase. Just because I am suffering, why should I find pleasure in your pain? How can a person care about people and yet seek solace in the idea that someone else is in pain, too? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't we take comfort in the fact that somewhere, someone else is triumphant, happy even?" She flicked an imaginary speck off the table.

It was at that moment that the blonde detective realized Dennis Maitland was right. She still wasn't sure how to explain the evidence they had found, but she didn't feel that Sara had been an accomplice. If anything she had to have been a victim. Of what she wasn't sure, but she was determined to find out. "So you didn't know about the cameras?"

The tall brunette looked horrified, but simply shook her head. "Do you honestly think that I would have let him film me if I had? Had I known, I would have had his ass arrested."

"Women in love do strange things…"

Sara's hands went to her face and she clasped them as if praying in front of her mouth. "Not this woman." She shook her head. "There is a lot I'll do for a person if I love them, but selling my integrity and compromising who I am as a person isn't one of them. Aside from which I spend all of my energy trying to help victims, I would never knowingly create one."

"Does that sentiment extend to yourself, as well?"

The young CSI licked her lips and dropped her eyes to the table in front of her. "Why do you think I knew about the cameras? It seems a pretty important point since you've asked me twice."

Sara Sidle had avoided the detective's question entirely and that fact was not lost on Sofia. "When we entered his apartment we found this box. " She indicated the bound leather box placed on the floor. "Luke had been doing this a while, as you can tell from the DVD we showed you earlier. There were maybe 140 DVDs in all; dated, numbered, color coded, listed by location, 4 to 5 a year, for the last 14 years, starting with the original one of you. On the newest compilation he had some pretty compromising material, but what led me to ask you the question is the fact that you and he were not on it."

A look of guarded relief spread across Sara's face; it was quickly followed up by confusion. "Not that I want what you said to be untrue, but are you sure? That seems really unlikely."

"There were two DVDs; you've already seen the first one. The second one has the two of you on it, but it is just the two of you talking, well, arguing actually." The blonde woman stood up and went towards the case looking for the second DVD.

"I already put it in." Ecklie piped up from his spot in the corner. He'd been unusually quiet since his return.

Sofia nodded and picked up the remote again. As before the DVD was cued up. "Do you mind?" She asked Sara before pressing play.

The young CSI shrugged, bracing for any surprise unpleasantness she covered her mouth with one shaking hand and brought her eyes to the screen.

It flickered immediately to life…

_Sara was dressed in a white tank and slimming black pants her arms hung loosely by her side as she scanned the room. She was clearly looking for something. A few steps later and she stood at the bedside table, pulling the drawer open, and then immediately closing it. She had just turned away from it when the young brunette let out a loud shriek as she was tackled from behind._

"_Jesus Luke, get off me." Pinned stomach down on the bed, her face was pressed into the mattress by the weight of man twice her size. Sara moaned and twisted until she'd managed to flip herself over. _

_Luke growled slightly and pinned her hands down, his mouth closing over hers._

_She struggled, her face showing a glimmer of amusement, but also shadowed by fear. She didn't like being confined. "I need to go."_

"_What?" The tall man, still held her hands in place, his mouth crashing down on hers again._

"_Seriously, get off. I have to go. I just got called in." She thrashed her head from side to side, squeezed out from under him while he was contemplating what she had just said._

"_Let me guess… Grissom…?" He grabbed her around the waist as she tried to get away, and held her in place._

_A heavy sigh escaped the young woman's mouth. "Yes. A decomp… in the desert. It's going to take me a while to get there, so let go."_

"_One for the road, baby..." Luke held her from behind and slid a hand up the front of her shirt. _

"_No. I have to go, now. He's already there waiting at the scene." She tried to unclasp his hands and managed to escape his grip, find her footing and move almost to the mirror, before he was behind her again gripping her around the middle. Pressed against the dresser, she let out a soft yelp, as he began to slide his hands up her front once more. The shirt went with his fingers exposing several fading bruises. _

"_Dammit, I'm not fooling around. Look I'm bruised enough already…" _

_The tall dark haired man let out a guttural moan of self-satisfaction. "You know you like it rough baby."_

"_Not always… In fact, not often..." She tried to squirm away, but he held her fast, his mouth settling in on her long delicate neck. "Luke," She hissed his name and elbowed him. "I really have to go." He let out a quiet huff as her appendage connected with the soft tissue of his gut. His hand went immediately to the tender spot giving her the opportunity to pull away._

_He reached for her arm immediately and grasped it. "What the fuck, Sara? The minute he calls, you run…" His blue eyes flashed as he tugged her to him. _

_The young CSI stiffened immediately and glared at him, her voice taking on a deadly calm. "It's my job. It's your job, too. Now let go." _

"_Pretty funny, that you are always the one who gets called in then." His grip held fast as she tried to pull away._

"_How can you say that? You have no way of knowing how often he calls the others in." _

"_Don't fuck with me Sara; I see the way he looks at you. Are you sleeping with him behind my back? Do you actually go home every afternoon or do go to his place and screw his brains out?"_

_The slender brunette's voice took on a dangerous timbre. "Your jealousy makes you ugly, Luke. Grow up." She yanked her arm and he let it go._

"_What no denials?" His hands were clenched at his side, his face a mask of anger, and something feral._

_She simply shook her head in disgust and left._

_A second later a glass smashed against the wall above his bed and the screen went dead._

Sara grimaced at the blank screen and continued to stare at it until Ecklie's words broke the silence of the room.

"Were you?"

Confusion shifted across her face and she brought her chocolate eyes to the man doing the inquiring. "Was I what?"

"Cheating on him with Grissom?"

"Ecklie, that's none of your business."

"It speaks to state of mind. He was angry. He thought you were cheating on him. Were you?"

The young CSI leveled him with a pointed stare. "I don't cheat."

"Then why didn't you deny it?"

"To what end?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What good would denial do? Jealousy is an irrational emotion. It doesn't bend to reason."

The two people in the room absorbed the comment for a moment. Sofia was the first to speak. "Did you and he fight often?"

"No, that was the first time, actually."

"Was that the first time he'd behaved in a jealous manner towards you?"

Sara had to think a second before answering. "Since he came to Vegas and to my face…? Yes…"

"What did you do after you left his place?"

"I went to the scene and met up with Grissom there. You can ask him. It was the Bothman case. It was a hit of some sort. We were still working it when was I called in on Tuesday."

"Did you see him after you left?"

"For a few minutes during assignments that evening… We went back to the lab with the evidence we had. Grissom passed out the sheets for everyone else and we had to roll out to the victim's home immediately after. I saw him there during assignments."

"How was his behavior?"

"He was apologetic. He told me he loved me and that he was sorry for freaking out earlier. He asked me if I forgave him."

"Did you?" Detective Curtis inquired.

"I told him we would have to talk later."

"And did you talk?"

"No. I got off shift late the next morning, maybe 10 am. I was still mad and at that point I'd pulled a triple, so I went home and climbed into bed."

"So when did you see him next?"

"See him? That night at assignments… Hear him? About four o'clock that afternoon."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Sure…" Sara's hands shook as she clasped them together and dropped her chin onto them. "Around four that afternoon, there was a loud banging at my front door. It was Luke, he was yelling,but I didn't answer. I heard a key in the lock, but my deadbolt was in place so I waited. When he couldn't get in he started kicking at it. By that time my neighbor had threatened to call the police, so he left. I realized after that he'd taken my spare door key from my purse."

"What did you do then?"

"I called a locksmith and had a keyless entry put in."

"And that night…?"

"I was set to end it, but I couldn't do it at work. I needed to go back to his place, too, because I had left something there the week before and I wanted it back. He was apologetic again. I think he thought I wasn't home at the time, so he mentioned nothing of coming to my house that day. I told him we had to talk and agreed to go to his townhouse the next morning – that was Tuesday. I was out all night and got off late, but I went over say around 9:30."

Sara's demeanor altered slightly it wasn't evident to all, but Sofia detected a faint quiver in her voice. Then there was another change this one more sudden, like a light had just switched on. Looking at Ecklie and then the blonde detective, she twisted a soft curl through her finger and asked, "Where were the other cameras?"

Sofia checked her notes to confirm what she already knew. "There was only one other one… It was rigged up in the shower stall."

Sara nodded her head contemplatively. "You have your answer to your question, then."

"I don't understand…" Sofia leaned forward and gazed into the bag beside her. There was still two more pieces of evidence for the young woman to explain.

"The reason why there was no footage of he and I having sex..." Her face colored slightly.

"Why is that?"

"Because we never used his room or his bed… And I certainly never showered there. I would shower at the lab, bring a fresh change of clothes, wear them home and shower again before bed."

Conrad Ecklie's mouth dropped and he looked at her like she was standing in front of him dressed in leather and sporting whips and chains... "You were having sex with the man for four months and you never once used his bed?"

A self-conscious grin spread across the young brunette's face and her voice took on a sultry edge. "Not everyone is into the missionary style, Conrad."

Sofia snickered at the flush that crept up to the top of her former supervisor's baldhead.

"Well then wh…"

Sara could sense the question before it even rolled off his tongue. He managed to get in two and a half words before she cut him off by shaking her hand at him. "I am not telling you where. You should already have a report from the CSIs who processed the scene. If you don't, you're free to go back there with the ALS and search for yourself. But sufficed to say, we never spent time in his bed."

The next question came from Sofia. "Why is that?"

Brown eyes, dropped to the table and she shook her head. "Most of the time we just never made it that far and really I never wanted to fall asleep there. I had to go home and I wanted to sleep in the comfort and safety of my own place."

"Interesting words you've used… From where I'm sitting, you were very afraid of him." Sofia bounced the end of her pen off the table in a slow rhythmic beat.

Sara remained silent for a minute, not really arguing the point. "Maybe, probably, most likely, but self analysis is a bitch and quite frankly I'm too worn-out to go there at the moment."

"You never slept over, you never showered there, he asks you to marry him and you hesitate, you don't share your home with him, you appear to have kept him at arms length…"

"Clearly my _superego_ was working overtime." Sara smiled sadly.

"I think your _superego_ was very smart…" Sofia dropped her pen, slid on a pair of latex gloves and reached into the bag beside her.

The tall brunette cringed at the items she pulled out of it. A white blouse, navy suit skirt, a navy La Perla bra with matching brazilian tonga bottom, and torn navy nylons... The blood-stains were clearly evident on the blouse and in existence, though only identifiable through the stiff darkened patches on the skirt, nylons and underwear. "Are these yours?"

Her heart sank as she looked away and then nodded.

"Did he hit you?"

Sara shook her head animatedly. "No."

"Sara…"

"No, he didn't, honestly. He really never did hit me. Aside from what you saw on that recent video and his proclivity for rough sex; he had always been very gentle with me." The young CSI swallowed deeply. "You are seeing a very skewed, one sided view of our relationship. Based on your interpretation of the evidence you have collected and answers to very limited and focused questions. We did normal things too; we went to the movies, to dinner and out to the water parks. We would go hiking, jogging, and go to the gym."

"Okay where did the blood come from?"

"The pillar at the end of the island in his kitchen, I turned my head too quickly, whacked my nose on it."

Sofia stared at her skeptically. "That's an awful lot of blood for a nose bleed."

"It bled a lot."

"When did this happen?"

Sara shifted awkwardly. "Tuesday morning."

The blonde detective dug through a thick sheaf of papers and pulled a report from the pile. She had intended to get the report on sample collections at Luke's apartment, but here eyes were immediately drawn to another sheet she'd just pulled out. Casting a glance at the woman sitting across from her, she then dropped her eyes back to the paper. The word _rape_ in Ecklie's handwriting was capitalized, underlined and punctuated. It was the report from the hospital. She'd received an accounting of the report from the Assistant Director, but he hadn't mentioned the doctor's findings. She tossed him an angry glance, as all of the pieces neatly began to fall into place. "Can you leave please?"

The look on Conrad Ecklie's face was priceless. At first there was shock, followed by annoyance and then downright anger. "I have every right to be here as lead CSI on the case, and Assistant Director of the lab. You can't ask me to leave in the middle of an imperative interview with a suspect."

"As Lead Detective on this case I can and just did. Remember, your being here is a courtesy, not a necessity." With that she got up and opened the door, and holding it; she waited until he'd left the room. By the time she turned back Sara was standing at the window again palms pressed up against it, as the first drops of rain began to splatter on the distant sidewalk.

_In the observation room Grissom's chest was on fire and he was sure his heart had just shattered. As much as he knew where the interrogation was about to go, he had, all along, desperately hoped he was wrong. Sofia had just come to the same conclusion he had the night before._

_Jim Brass allowed a thick sigh to escape his mouth as he watched Conrad Ecklie leave the room; a moment later he heard a soft click and turned to see his friend moving away from the room's only door. _

"_I don't want him in here for this." Gil Grissom moved to where he had been standing and placed his forehead up against the window._

"_It's your neck, man." _

_A sharp series of raps sounded on the door and both men ignored them._

"According to your statement at the hospital, you and he had had intercourse twice that morning."

"Yes." Sara's reply was soft, and almost undetectable.

"Why, with a man you were intending to end it with?"

"When my father died…" The young CSI stopped, allowing herself to digest the word. It was funny how she always referred to him as having died, as opposed to the truth… having been _murdered_…"My grandmother gave me a watch. It's beautiful. It's an heirloom and worth somewhere in the range of $75,000. Though, I have to say its true value actually lies in the sentiment, as it is the only thing I have left of my family. When Luke and I flew into LA last week I wore it to the dinner gala. When we came back the next morning, I had it on at his house. I realized when I went home later that day that it was missing. I went over that morning with the intention of getting it back and then ending our relationship. When I arrived he was waiting for me, very much in the mood."

"Were you?"

Sara rolled her eyes at the detective and then resumed staring at the window. "What do you think?" She grimaced slightly and placed her hands on the cool glass. "No, it was just easier to go along with it. I know it sounds really stupid. It was just a watch, but it really is very important to me. I was certain he had it. I figured if I played nice…"

"Did it work?" Sofia knew what her next question should be. She wanted to cut to the chase, but at the same time she had a feeling the young CSI would clam up if she just jumped into it without first trying to put her at ease.

"Yeah…" Her lips pursed and she cast a quick glance towards the detective. "Sex was his Achilles heel. I believe, he thought that it made everything alright. Or maybe he thought that if I was willing to… uh… that meant I had forgiven him." Sara leaned her head against the window and brought her eyes up towards the ceiling. "It was wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it was wrong. Morally, I led him on and I shouldn't have. I should have been up front with him from the outset. I have to admit that it felt more than a little like I was prostituting myself."

"That sounds a little harsh. Women do it all the time, even married women. A woman wants her husband to do something nice for her, she treats him to a mind-blowing night of sex, he gets her what she wants, she gives him what he wants, everyone is happy and it is an even trade. If he doesn't do what she wants, she holds out until he does…"

A small laugh escaped Sara's chest. "I don't play games… It's disrespectful."

"Do you think if you had been honest with him from the start he would have given you what you wanted?"

"I don't know, but I do know that I wouldn't feel quite so deceptive, and in the end I am the one who has to look at myself in the mirror everyday."

"_Wow…" Brass eyed the young woman in front of the window and shook his head. "She should meet my ex. Deceptive bitch was her first, middle and last name. Now **she **could teach our girl there some games."_

_Grissom threw a glance his friend's way. "She's blaming herself."_

"_For what…? Banging the guy?"_

_Anger knotted in Gil Grissom's stomach, he ignored Jim's statement and continued to watch the subject of the interrogation. In the hallway Ecklie had given up knocking and was at the present trying to find someone with a key to the observation room door._

"Did he give you the watch back?"

"No he said he didn't have it, but he did let me search for it. He even helped."

"Did you find it?"

Sara shook her head and paled slightly. Her headache had been sitting behind her eyes since the beginning of the interview, like incessant background noise. Every time she moved her head a little too quickly, it sent a sharp needle of pain directly to the back of her skull. "No, but I know he had it. The clasp was loose; I had to have dropped it somewhere in the townhouse."

"How can you be so certain you lost it there? If the clasp was loose then you could have dropped it anywhere."

"No, I had it when I arrived back at his place that morning."

"How can you be so certain?"

"He was out of condoms. I had a couple in my purse. I reached in caught the watch on a zipper inside. It took me a minute to get it free. I realized when I got in my car to go home that it wasn't on my wrist. I should have gone back in immediately, but I was wrung out. All I wanted to do was go to my place and sleep. I had to work that night and I figured I could pick it up later."

"Did you always use condoms?"

The young CSI simply squinted at the blonde detective.

"You have to trust that I am asking for a reason, Sara."

She nodded her head slowly. "I have a patch, too, but I always made him wear a condom."

"Always…?"

A heavy sigh escaped the slim brunette and she turned back to watch puddles accumulating outside on the pavement. "Always..."

"Sara…"

Her next words came out almost as a whisper. "Except the last time…"

"Why?"

"If you are asking, you already know the answer, and I am not going to say it." The shaking had returned with a vengeance, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the parking lot, her eyes riveted on one of the cars out there, in the back of her mind she recognized it as Jim Brass'.

"Know what?"

"Give me a break Sofia, your face changed completely when you picked up that report. It was Ecklie's, from our interview at the hospital. I recognize the handwriting. So don't insult me by pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about…"

"Okay…" The blonde woman dropped her pen onto the table with a resounding clink, and moved to join Sara at the window. She matched her stance and stared out into the parking lot a moment before turning to study the face of the CSI standing next to her. She could see unshed tears in her eyes, and the ghostly pallor of her skin. "Did you, have a kit run?"

"No."

"Sara"

"No…" Sara Sidle's breath clouded the cool glass in front of her, and she wiped it away absently. "Look, I've held a victim's hands through it all. I've watched them cry. I've seen the fear, terror, and humiliation in their faces. I know you have, too. But I can tell you that what an observer experiences is nothing compared to what a victim feels, having to go through the whole ordeal after already being violated… not going to happen to me, ever again."

_Again… _

_The word clinked around dangerously in the maelstrom of thoughts crowding Grissom's mind. It sat there innocently, much like a lobbed hand grenade, until the reality of its implication exploded forcefully; messily taking down with it any intelligent coherent thought he might have formed. His breath froze and he felt like he'd just taken a 12 gage shot gun round to the chest._

_Brass remained silent, recounting the_ _events of the last few days. Had he seen it? Had he suspected it? Had he actually wanted to face the possibility after the doctor had mentioned that she showed signs of having been raped? The answer was a resounding no. He'd blindly taken her word for it. Rough sex, that was all. The Doctor had disagreed, but Jim Brass, seasoned police officer, had chosen to ignore the connotations. Why? Because he didn't want to believe that anything like that could have happened, to the young woman he'd come to look on as a daughter. And what was this about, **again**? He looked to his friend? He repeated the word. "Again…? Did you know?" _

_Grissom ignored his old friend, unable to take his eyes off the trembling brunette in front of him; recriminations ricocheting around inside his head. He was torn by the desire to go in, take her into his arms and never leave her unprotected again, and the reality that he couldn't move even if he wanted to. For some reason his legs simply wouldn't work. _

It took a moment for Sofia to register what it was the younger woman had said. Her eyes widened and she stood rooted to the spot, gawking incredulously at her.

"You know, a kit will do nothing. I've showered three of four times since. Aside from which, it's over, he's dead." Sara reminded her former colleague, blinking back the liquid in her eyes; angrily she swiped at an escapee, which had made its getaway down her cheek.

"Trinity of evidence, Sara..."

"No… Forget it."

Frustrated, Sofia spun on her heal and stalked back to the table. Taking her seat she picked up the pen. "Did you fight him?" She pulled a photo of Luke's body, post mortem, out of the pile in front of her. There were scratches on his chest and back, and bruising around his midsection and lower extremities.

"Yes."

"Did you scratch him?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Through the whole thing he had control of my arms." She closed her eyes fighting off the violent memory, yet trying to maintain enough of the image in her head to answer the detective's questions. "When I finally managed to get free of him, I punched him in the chest and I think I kicked him in the leg. I know I hit him hard enough to wind him, that's when I left."

"Did he try to stop you?"

"Yes, verbally… I think my blow had hurt." A clearly visible shudder, wracked Sara's body, and she was almost certain that the little she ate was going to make a reappearance. Carefully, she made her way back to the only other chair in the room and slumped into it. Her face was a pale mask of confusion when she uttered her next words. "Would you believe he called me baby? He actually said 'Aw baby don't be like that.' I honestly don't know if he realized what it was that he had done. It was like he was in denial or detached or something."

Sofia grimaced slightly, her heart going out to the other woman. "He knew Sara." She jotted down a few more notes and then looked up into distant brown eyes. "This is very important. I have only a few more questions for you and then I will tell you what I know. Okay?"

Sara nodded, slowly and placed one of her hands over her mouth.

"When did you leave his place?"

"10:30 at the latest."

"What did you do after?"

"I went home, showered, and called my OB. She fit me in immediately, so I left and I think I arrived there around, 11:45."

"Are you sure of the time?"

"Yes. She was completely booked for the day; but agreed to see me on her lunch hour at noon. I had to wait through two patients, and then I went in."

"How long were you there?"

"At least fourty-five minutes, but probably closer to the full hour. She spent the better part of it arguing with me, kit, hospital, police… At the very least she wanted to examine me."

"Did she?"

Tears formed in Sara Sidle's eyes, but she blinked them back. "Yes. She wouldn't give me the prescriptions without it."

"I need her information." The detective slid a blank sheet of paper across the table, along with the pen. A moment later the page was back in front of her, a name and phone number etched onto it.

"What happened next?"

"She gave me a stack of prescriptions, a few of them had to be taken immediately. I went to the pharmacy to fill them. While I waited I picked up a small gift certificate for Mrs. Chan, she's on a fixed income."

"Which pharmacy…? And how did you pay?"

"Walgreen's on Las Vegas Blvd. I paid with debit… and I went to the bank machine after that and made a withdrawal."

"What time did you get home at?"

"Two-thirtyish..."

"Did anyone see you coming in?"

"Yes, the head of the association. He's in charge of all maintenance issues, and wanted to know when I was going to have the patch up paint job done on the keyless entry."

"He'll remember talking to you?"

"Yes. I told him to chill the fuck out… I think he was offended." Sara smirked at the memory.

"And then?"

"I went to bed and grabbed a few hours sleep. I'm not sure that I would have been able to sleep but my doctor had prescribed an herbal sedative of some sort. I slept until I got the call to go in for swing."

Sofia bobbed her head unsure of what to say... "Umm… First off... uh… Thanks for the co-operating. And secondly I'm uh… I'm sorry about…"

The chocolate haired CSI waved her off, at the same time swallowing down the meager contents of her stomach. "Please I've heard that sentiment far too many times over the last few days."

"Okay." The blonde detective gripped the manila envelope and began by removing a small stack of photos. "My turn…" Flipping over the top picture and sliding in towards Sara, she began her explanation. "At 12:45 on Tuesday, LVPD received a 419 call. O'Reilly got the call and was the first on the scene with a few uniforms. Mayfield and Sanders were dispatched from the lab and met up with him shortly after. The call was to the apartment of a Ms. Wendy Maran." Sofia tapped the photo to indicate the blue-faced, lifeless young woman. "Her roommate had come home to pick up something she had forgotten and found her strangled and assaulted. When David arrived, it was determined, via liver temp, that she had been dead – at that point – less than an hour. O'Reilly almost blew an artery on the spot. He said… and I quote 'I thought it was Sara from CSI'. The picture does not do her justice. I've seen her and she does look remarkably like you."

Sara remained silent, her dark eyes studying the woman's face. One slender finger touched the corner of the 8x10 glossy, and she slid it slowly towards her. Wendy Maran had dark eyes and a full mouth, much like herself. Her face shape was similar, but her hair was longer and naturally straight.

"We found two samples on the body. One was male - seminal, and the other surprisingly a vaginal contribution, not belonging to the victim."

The young criminalist absorbed this for a second, her breath catching achingly in her throat, and her eyes filled with horror and a great sadness.

"When the samples were brought in we ran the vaginal contribution first. And we got a hit off compliance. It was you. The system crashed just after that so we weren't able to run the seminal sample, but because of the time frame involved we were able to pull a print off the Wendy's neck; it matched Luke's."

Sara looked almost green and she was certain that whatever she was trying to keep down would inevitably make its way back up. Unable to trust that she could even open her mouth, she nodded silently.

"This…" Sofia pulled a picture of another young woman out of the pile. "Is Angelina Neilsen." She laid the picture out on the table next to the first one. The young woman looked similar to the first. This time the hair was the right length, but the face shape was off. Her face was wider than Sara's and her lips thinner, but there was something in the eyes that was familiar. "She was found raped and strangled and dumped at the land fill, two weeks before you started seeing him. We had nothing to go on. All evidence had been washed away in a rainstorm. No semen, no skin under the fingernails, no nothing. She would have remained unsolved, except…" Sofia got up and grabbed the leather box off the floor. Placing it carefully on the table she opened it to reveal stacks of DVDs. "He was very organized…" She grabbed three of them each a different color. "Red. You… there were only the two you saw." she dropped it on the table. "Pink, there are a lot of these. Multiple sexual encounters each DVD seems to extend over a two to three month period." She placed it next to the red one with Sara's name on it, and then dropped a black one beside it. "Black…" She stopped for a second her face taking on a look of intense melancholy. It was the first and only crack in her professional police façade and it made the young CSI feel cold inside. "There were about twenty eight of these all totaled, two a year for the last fifteen, each dated, and all in different locations. This one is Angelina. Mayfield has identified 18 of the women so far, all of them are dead with an MO that is strikingly similar, and he's working on the other 12, by date and location."

Somewhere after _dead_, Sofia's words ceased to exist. They had disappeared into the white noise that had taken over Sara's mind. A bone wracking shudder forced its way through her, as her blood suddenly ran from hot to icy. Amidst it all, she was sure her heart had stopped beating and was equally as certain that the tentative control she'd gained over her digestive system was now shot all to hell. Two thoughts managed to pop out of the storm brewing in her mind. Firstly, this was all her fault. And secondly she was going to be violently ill. "I'm going to be sick…" She announced huskily and flew out of the chair. Within seconds she had vacated the room, almost laying Ecklie flat, and in the process knocking one of the maintenance guys completely off his feet. The ring of keys in his hand snapped and broke after impacting the wall. At least a hundred little pieces of metal danced across the hallway floor, as the tall brunette flew past him and down the corridor to the first available washroom.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best, and your patience is extraordinary.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

Sorry I too so long to get this out to you. To make you all a little happier 20 will be up tomorrow.

Thanks to all of my reviewers... You are a special lot... And you have turned me into a review junkie... ;o) More more more... see what I mean...

**Chapter 19**

The door slammed as Grissom and Brass both exited the observation room and came nose to nose with a fuming Assistant Director.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ecklie radiated such fury that the air practically ignited around him. "I'll have your job for this."

Gil Grissom ignored the man completely his eyes anxiously searching the direction Sara had fled. "Where is she?" He addressed the blonde detective.

Sofia cast a swift glance his way and followed the path the younger woman had taken. "The washroom..." She announced over her shoulder at the same time pointing to a door about 10 yards away. She pointedly made her way over there and leaned up against the wall outside it, unable to ignore the distressing sound of retching emanating from within the cramped cubicle.

The entomologist was torn between the overwhelming need to go to Sara, remove her from everything and everyone that was causing her pain, and the actuality of Ecklie who had his arm in a death grip and was relentlessly sticking his face in his line of vision, determined not to be denied.

"Hey, lighten up, Conrad. The door was stuck, man." Brass smiled disparagingly at the bald man and pointed to where his hand was wrapped around Grissom's forearm. "You know, he's a mild mannered Bugman most of the time, but I have seen him lose his temper once or twice and it ain't pretty…"

The detective's warning came way too late. Profoundly aggravated, Grissom turned on Ecklie. There was a deadly calm in his voice when he leaned in. "If you want to keep your hand get it off me now!" He demanded and stepped in closer so the verbal damage would be confined to those standing within immediate earshot. "And if you want my job you can have it, but remember when you go running off to Director Cavallo to tattle on me I will have a few things of my own to tell him."

Gil jabbed a thick finger into the man's chest. "For example, how you should have recused yourself from this case, since your history with my CSI represents a serious conflict of interest. How you jumped way ahead of the evidence and in doing so you victimized someone who was already a victim. Which is I must say pretty typical of your investigative skills and ultimately, how you turned this whole thing into your own personal vendetta. Using this tragedy as an opportunity to try and dig up non-existent dirt on me and Sara."

Grissom appeared to be winding down his irritation dissipating with the mention of the young woman's name. He needed to tend to her. This argument with Ecklie was a waste of his time. He spun to go over to where Sofia was waiting, but stopped and wagged a finger at the man standing in a stunned silence. "A few more things… One - If I go, I'll take you with me, two – Sara has not only the resources to, but probably the grounds to sue the shit out of the city thanks to you, and three - whatever has happened or may happen between Sara and I, is nobody's business, but ours. I've read the rules, too."

Turning he made to leave when he noticed that Sofia was no longer by the washroom door, but was making her way toward him with an elderly couple in tow. The woman moved slowly with an elegant cane. The way she hobbled reminded him of his elderly aunt, it was clear that she suffered the same affliction and her difficulty lay in her hips. The tall refined man walking along beside her, with patience showing his familiarity traveling at her speed must be her husband. Simply by looking at them it was obvious that they were Luke Denton's parents. Internally he groaned. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Less than a minute later they were standing in front of him.

Sofia held her hand out and motioned to the twosome. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Denton." She pointed to the graveyard supervisor. "This is Gil Grissom and the Assistant Director of the lab, Conrad Ecklie." She indicated the bald man who'd come up behind Grissom. "They are here to claim their son's remains."

Sara was acutely pissed off; she was sick and tired of having to spend time with her face in a toilet and livid for putting herself in the position she was in. Her chest throbbed, but she wasn't sure if it was from all of the vomiting she had been doing or the fact that her heart had been put through a meat grinder. Another heave yielded nothing, but a small amount of orange sludge. Suddenly the walls began to close in on her as bits of memory flashed through her mind like a strobe; her face being slammed up against the drywall, him tugging her underwear aside and forcibly entering her. The memory made her world spin, escape was what she needed. Somewhere open, somewhere she could run, somewhere that didn't make her feel nearly so emotionally claustrophobic. Staggering to her feet she flushed and eyed herself in the mirror. Tears ran down her cheeks undaunted by the fact that her brain was telling her to stop being such a baby and suck it up. She'd been through way worse and survived. She would do the same with this. Turning the cold-water tap on, she splashed some of it on her face and wiped herself dry with the available paper towel.

Trying to still the uncontrollable shaking that had possession of her; Sara opened the door tentatively, bound and determined that she be allowed to leave, but there was no one there. They all appeared to be occupied with a lady down the hall who seemed to have collapsed and was in the midst of wailing desperately. Less than a second of contemplation brought with it the realization, that the woman on the ground was Madeline Denton and the man crouching beside her was her husband Wilbur. If Sara had considered for even one instant that maybe she should go back and finish up the interview seeing Luke's parents sealed her fate. She turned and literally ran out the door towards the back parking lot.

The young CSI had almost made it to the bottom of the stairs when two strong arms gripped her shoulders and held her in place.

"Hey girl, I thought that was you. Thanks for everything; I have your keys at home."

Still shuddering Sara looked up into the concerned green eyes of Warrick Brown, glad to see a friendly face that didn't treat her like some broken child. "Hey," She smiled stiffly and gave him a hug.

He kept his arms clasped around her, "You okay, Sar?" He thought he'd seen the young CSI at her worst after working triples on rape cases, but there was something in her eyes that worried him.The anxiety in his voice was evident, but Sara was too wrung out to deny anything. She just shook her head. Warrick pulled away slightly and examined her for a moment. He didn't like what he was seeing. Her eyes were red from crying and she was trembling profusely. "What's goin' on? "

"Everything's a mess, but I'll be alright." The tall brunette smiled again and this time stepped fully away from Warrick's grip. "I'll see you at work, okay?" With that she took off in a sprint across the parking lot, leaving him both perplexed and still calling her name.

Inside the building he spotted at the end of the hall Grissom with the assistance of another man in the process of helping a sobbing woman up off the ground, Warrick didn't recognize either person. A few paces away the normally controlled Conrad Ecklie was involved in an animated conversation with both Sofia and Brass. Something must have happened because all four of his co-workers seemed out of sorts

The freshly re-honeymooned CSI was actually at the police station on another matter, he'd returned from two romantic weeks at Martha's Vineyard to discover he had to testify in a trick-roll turned homicide on Monday, which meant he needed to touch base with the assistant DA before the weekend and review the case notes, too. Technically he hadn't even reported back to work yet, but you had to do what you had to do. Tina had not been pleased, but he'd convinced her to give him thirty minutes. She'd be pissed when he got home late, but made his way over to the group anyway.

"Hey." He announced his presence and waved as six pairs of eyes fell on him. "What's up with Sara? She took off out of here like the place was ready to blow."

Gil Grissom's face drained of all color and he looked horribly torn. The white haired woman was still weeping hysterically and had thrown herself into his arms. He looked at Brass. "Jim... Please..."

"I got it..." The detective grabbed Sofia's arm when she made to follow after Sara. "I'll go after her. You've done enough…" To Warrick he indicated the door. "Which way did she go?"

"What the hell is going on here?" The dark skinned CSI inquired, his hands going to his hips. Out of worry for his friend he wasn't going to tell them anything else until he got some answers.

The hiss in Gil Grissom's voice changed his mind. "Just answer the goddamn question, Warrick."

His response was instantaneous. "West… Along the boulevard…"

Brass ran from the building faster than anyone had seen him move in two decades.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

FF is acting ackward not sure what is going on - apparently the server is not notifying people when I post new chapters--- oh whoa is me..

Thanks to all of my reviewers... You are a special lot... thanks for taking the time to write you make my writing worthwhile.

**Chapter 20**

Her breath broke in her chest and she was sure her lungs were on fire. Finally slowing, Sara leaned up against a tree her dark eyes drawn to the gloom of the gray sky above her. The storm was threatening to dump more of its cleansing water on the grime of the city around her. She had made it through the downtown proper. Unsure of how long she had been running, she was certain of one thing; she had put some serious distance between herself and the LVPD. Perusing the neighborhood, the young brunette realized she was actually in the outskirts of one of the seedier districts. She was calculating the distance home and the odds of making it back there without being drowned when a quick series of honks broke the relative quiet of the street.

Turning to look in the direction of the disturbance she ended up staring into the concerned face of Detective Jim Brass. He'd just stepped out of the car and was eying her cautiously over the hood from the driver's side door. "You know if you keep going I am going to run out of gas, then I'll have to chase you on foot and my knees will be supremely pissed."

There was nowhere she could go to hide from reality, at least no place that she wouldn't require a vehicle or a plane to get to. When she was small she used to hide in her closet. When the fighting got too loud for even that place to offer her sanctuary, she could always go next door to Denny's house. This was something that had been missing from her life for some time. At first her home had been a place to retreat to when the gruesome details of her job threatened to crush her, but at some point along the way, the loneliness that she found there made it less of a refuge and more of a cage. For a short time Luke Denton's passion had offered her another form of shelter from her overpowering emotions, but that had been a dangerous place disguised as a safe haven. Overwhelmed and feeling completely lost she moved to Brass' passenger door and silently got in.

The veteran detective flashed a look at the slim brunette sitting mutely beside him and pulled away from the curb. Five minutes later he hauled up in front of a brightly lit diner. The neon strobe out front announced itself as the Go Raw Cafe.

One well manicured eyebrow popped up and Sara bit her lip tentatively. "Aren't you supposed to take me back to PD?" She studied her clasped hands in her lap.

"Only if you want to..." He pulled the keys from the ignition and slid them into his pocket before getting out. "Personally, I think you should eat before you make any decisions. I've been told a lack of food or in my case - a lack of the proper food - affects a person's mental status. I mean just look at me." With that he made his way towards the front door, hoping the young woman would follow. A moment later she was standing behind him waiting to be seated. "This place apparently makes great vegetarian stuff."

Surprise painted the Sara Sidle's face, and she eyed him curiously.

"What?" He asked. "I used to date this vegetarian stripper; she made me take her here a few times." He scratched the side of his head and waved at the hostess, motioned them into a booth near the window. Reminiscing, a far away look shadowed his face as he dropped onto the worn vinyl seat. "She loved animals." He grinned and reiterated. "I mean she really LOVED…" He made a humping motion with his hand. "Animals..."

Sara screwed up her face and wrinkled her nose as if she had just inhaled a full gust from a decomp and something akin to a snort popped out of her mouth.

"I had to end it. My ego couldn't take it. Every time I saw her with her Great Dane I came down with a serious case of performance anxiety."

"Oh… my… God…" A state of disbelief spread across the young CSIs features, followed by a fit of giggles. "It's called zoophilia, and that is sooo sick, TMI Jim, way too much."

"You seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff." He winked at her.

A red flush crept from her neck all the way up to the top of her head. "We are so – not having this discussion."

"I just never really pictured you as the leather type, Sara…"

Her words were low, and shy. "I'm not." She wobbled her head. "I was young, it was exciting at first, but… it became scary and it didn't feel right…" She eyed him speculatively for a moment. "Didn't you ever do anything when you were younger that you knew would cause you an infinite amount of embarrassment if anyone found out? Something that you regret…?"

"Yup… but it didn't involve whips and chains, just a couple of pairs of handcuffs."

"Oh God…" Sara laughed trying to forget the picture of a very compromised Captain Jim Brass that flashed through hear head. "Again Jim… TMI…"

"Yeah, but it made you smile." The detective passed her a menu and winked. "Bet today goes down as number one in your book of horrors…"

"You lose." She picked up the menu and studied it briefly before dropping it back onto the table. "Would you believe only the top four?"

"Please tell me the other three happened before you came to Vegas. Otherwise I'll be forced to kick my best friend in the ass big time for not looking out after you better and believe me, that's not something you want to do to an entomologist. I'll be knee deep in Madagascar singing cockroaches in no time."

Another giggle escaped Sara. "I think his roaches are the standard Nevada type."

"Nope… Believe me I have met Willy, Piffle, Johnny and Snark… They sing and they hiss too."

"Lovely…" She grinned and then the smile in her eyes sobered. "Well… The top two were pre-Vegas, and number three was Tuesday."

"What can I get you two?" A beehived waitress out of the fifties approached the table. Clearly at some point during the day she had met with a plate of pasta as there was a deep rich tomato stain running down the entire front of her pink uniform dress.

Brass pointed to Sara. "Her first..."

"Ahh…" Sara Sidle pointed to the sandwich portion of the menu and read off the name. "Mediterranean grilled vegetables on foccachia bread and a bottle of water." She passed the menu back to the woman who shoved it absently under her arm.

Silently Brass held up two fingers and passed her his own menu. "So number one…" His comment was directed at the young woman in front of him causing her to grimace.

Gazing sadly at him for a second she absently played with an errant ringlet before tucking it behind her ear. Over the years she had grown to respect and genuinely like the detective. She trusted him with her life; of that much she was sure, but her heart was already so sore.

"Okay… Me first…" He knitted his fingers together and leaned in. "My single most painful moment had to have been when I found out that the daughter I loved and raised as my own for the better part of ten years, was actually the offspring of a dirty detective named Mike O'Toole. She was the product of an affair the ex had had with him. One of many I might add."

Sara winced at the lost look in the older man's eyes. The words had cut deeply.

"I mean I wasn't the greatest dad, I did try to be there, though... But after that, for the longest time all I could see when I looked at Ellie, was the lie. By the time I had stopped blaming her and realized that being her father didn't necessarily mean biologically, it was too late. I had lost her."

"As long as she's alive, it's never too late, Jim."

"Yeah it is." He picked up a paper napkin and began to shred it methodically. "She's turning tricks on the strip in LA and she doesn't care… about her health… about being a family… nothing... just the money… She'll do a guy without a condom, just because it pays more. If she needs money, I'll give it to her, but she doesn't want anything to do with me. I made her what she is. Just as surely as somewhere along the line Luke Denton's parent's made him what he was. I saw your face today, you can't blame yourself…"

"Do you really believe that nurture is the predominant factor in the way a person turns out?"

"You're beginning to sound like Grissom…"

Sara smiled sorrowfully. "I think it is a combination of things that makes a person who they are. You know… You can lead a horse to water…"

"Yeah, but if you never gave that horse water and then arbitrarily offer one day how will it know what to do with it?"

A fat tear slid from the corner of one eye and tracked its way lazily down Sara's cheek. "Number one for me was the day my dad died, I was ten."

Brass surprised at the turn in the conversation reached across the table and squeezed her trembling hand. "You were young and it's always hard to lose a parent."

"Actually, he was a son-of-a-bitch, an abusive alcoholic, who used to beat the shit out of my mother and brother on a regular basis. I escaped it mostly because I learned to read the tone of his voice. When I heard it and knew he was ready to go off, I would head up to my room, and hide in the closet." She gripped his thick rough hand back. "My mother who by the way was no saint, one day had clearly had enough because she took a knife and made six holes in him. He bled out in the bedroom, most likely in a drunken stupor. That day I didn't make it to the closet. I had just come home from school. You know, I didn't like him, but I still loved him…"

"Jesus, Sara…" Was all Brass could manage his fingers giving hers a minuscule squeeze.

"Uh… I think _he and the rest of the holy trinity_ had taken thatday off." She mustered up a small smile.

"Does Gil know about this?"

"Yup, I told him about 6 months ago."

Jim Brass eyed her skeptically.

"What?" Sara grinned. "I did, really. The day I ummm… lost it with Ecklie and Catherine, he came over to my house and I told him." She frowned. "Not willingly though."

"I'll bet." Brass leaned back as the waitress returned with their food and placed it on the table in front of them. "That must have blown his socks off."

"Yeah, maybe, I dunno… Grissom doesn't respond the way normal people do." The young CSI studied her food speculating on just how long this would manage to stay in her stomach. She should have chosen a soup maybe. At least that way, if it made reappearance it would be less chunky coming up. Brass had already made a serious dent in one half of his sandwich. So at the urging of her rumbling stomach she threw caution into the wind and took a bite of her own. Around a small mouthful of vegetables she continued. "He is sooo… indifferent, he could hate me and I would never know it."

"You _know_ he doesn't hate you…" Brass took in another mouthful of the foccachia.

"I don't know anything, except that sometimes I would prefer it if he did hate me, at least that's a real emotion. It sure as hell beats apathy."

The aging detective took a swig of his water. "He's not indifferent either; he just doesn't show what he feels very often. You know what they say though. Still waters run deep..."

"Yeah well some times you get in too deep and you drown…" Sara took another tentative bite of her sandwich and forced it down.

"You didn't see his face when he told me that you were seeing Denton."

Sara laughed out loud. "I think everyone's face was the same. They were all shocked. I actually overheard one of the lab techs from days say, _'I can't believe chose that skinny geek bitch over me.'_ " Sara took a sip of her water and washed down another mouthful of sandwich. "Who was she calling a geek anyway? She works in the lab too. I should've let her have him."

"She would probably be dead."

"Yeah…" A great sadness flooded in her voice. "Bad thought…"

"The Bugman, he was hurt. He saw the two of you together at Luke's townhouse, long before your relationship became public knowledge." The other half of Brass' sandwich took a hit as he crammed it into his mouth.

Sara stared at the man across the table lips shaped in a silent 'O'. Her eyes fell to a thick groove on the table top and her fingers traced along it. "I didn't need to know that. It only adds to my embarrassment…"

The waitress came over coffee pot in hand, flipped the cups on the table and filled each to the brim. Sara grabbed her arm before she left and pointed to her plate. "Can I have this to go?" The other half simply wouldn't go down after the latest revelation. Picking up her water she took another gulp and placed it carefully on the table. "I really didn't want this to digress into a conversation about the elusive Gil Grissom. Aside from telling you about my dad, I actually did have a point."

"And that would be?"

"That life is unpredictable. You have a sperm and ova, two halves to a whole. When they join, it's a lot like tossing your chromosomes into the proverbial DNA Blender…" She paused a moment and let out a soft sigh. "My head has been in the toilet or zonked on a pillow for the last two days so I am not sure what is going on with everything… Did you ever actually talk to Luke's parents?"

"Not really, I met them, though. Gris was having trouble locating them until some time last night. They arrived when you pulled your Houdini at PD… That's actually why I'm here and not him."

"Any impressions…?"

"I saw them for three seconds, but they seemed okay…"

"See, you were wrong earlier when you said somewhere along the line Luke's parents made him the way he is. They're a regular June and Walt Cleaver… Big house, big money, one child, supremely doted on… stay at home mom, PTA and vacations down south. Successful dad, he is some kind of surgeon. Fresh cookies waiting when he came home from school every day, clean clothes, spotless house… His home life was as close to perfect as you can get… Yet, it appears that mom squeezed out the next Ted Bundy." Sara's voice dropped and softened. "Their little genetic miracle is actually a societal nightmare. Procreation is a crap shoot." Sara screwed the lid back on her water. "Grissom once told me he didn't believe genes are a predictor of violent behavior. I believe he is wrong, too. Genes have everything to do with it. I believe that people are born with a predisposition for certain things. Shyness, fear, anger, stubbornness, unhappiness, addiction… each of these things is relatively minor, _but_ all it takes is a biological sneeze and a mismatched chromosome and poof… You have a child born without a conscience, a sexual deviant, a psychopath, or a sociopath, not mom's fault, not dad's fault, no one's fault really. Society, parents, friends, circumstance - they do play a role, but the degree is dependant on the person's predisposition and length of exposure to circumstance.

The young CSI reached across the table and squeezed the older man's hand. "A missed concert, missed dinners, indifference can make a child's life difficult, but how does that compare to my family? We had to be the poster family for the seriously dysfunctional. Once, during a fight over, god… I think it was painting the dining room… my dad put my mother's head completely through the wall… When she dropped, he kicked her and slammed her face first into the floor…" Sara squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. "My brother is a junkie, but relatively harmless, to everyone except himself, and I managed to get into Harvard on a full academic scholarship 18 months early, graduated with a degree and am two credits shy of my masters. I work in law enforcement and aside from the fact that I am clearly socially inept and relationship retarded; I am reasonably harmless to anyone not a perp… I could have been standing on a street corner next to your daughter; in fact I should have been… Two kids, same family, different outcomes…"

Brass eyed the young woman intently, trying to shake off the vision of a child Sara watching as her mother is beaten unconscious. He wasn't very successful.

"Anyway, my point is. You didn't make your daughter into what she is. She's an adult, she makes her own choices. You can blame yourself for not being there, as much you want; but the reality of it is, she's the one who walks out onto that street corner every night. I've been there with my brother. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but at some point you have to walk away. Keep the lines open, but stop beating yourself up over it."

Brass smiled. "I thought I was supposed to be the one trying to make you feel better…"

"You did…" She pointed to the carton of food that the waitress had just dropped on the table. "You fed me… I was starving." Sara grinned, pulled her credit card out of her pocket, and dropped it on the table.

"I've got it…" Brass dropped some cash on the table, and passed the plastic back. "My number two was my first shooting. I blew away this kid. 17 years old, he had a gun and was running from the scene of a robbery. I found out later that he was homeless and he'd just stolen a bag of chips and fifty bucks. When he turned with the gun raised, man I had no choice, but to shoot. The gun wasn't even real. He died for fifty bucks..."

"I'm so lucky that I have never had to shoot someone. I don't know if I could ever forgive myself." Sara's eyes were distant. "I've drawn my weapon a few times, but I always wondered if I would be able to pull the trigger."

"Believe me little girl, when you're in that position it's instinct, you do whatever you have to, to survive."

"I guess." Sara's voice dropped to an almost whisper, that didn't manage to hide the break in it. "My number two was the first time I had an SAE kit run." She gulped hard as if the words had become lodged in her throat. "And all of the circumstances surrounding it…"

Brass leveled his gaze at her. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sara shook her head. "No."

"You should… to someone…"

"No…"

The detective absorbed all of the pain he had read on her face, and nodded. "Do you want to talk about Tuesday?"

Her head swiveled again. "No, not now… It's still way too close to the surface."

"Okay…" The detective motioned for the young woman to get up and follow him. He stopped when she was behind him, and turned grasping her gently by the shoulders. "You know where we have to go now…"

Sara nodded hesitantly, her voice quivering. "Yeah, I know."

"Do you want me to call Gris? He can meet us there…"

The young woman actually contemplated this for a moment. In her eyes there were unshed tears. Part of her wanted him to be there just to hold her. If he could do that for her, she felt, in her heart everything would be all right. But the whole thing might hurt him too, better to minimize the damage. She shook her head. "No, I'll be okay alone."

Sure you will… Brass thought to himself.

TBC

Warning I am told the next chapter is hard to read... Hmmmmm... it is long and heavy... ;o)


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

This is a fairly heavy chapter and deals with a painful subject. That said enjoy, and please let me know how you feel about it via review. For all of you who review regularly THANK YOU SO MUCH.

**Chapter 21 **

It was a surprise to say the least, he was the last person she had expected to see sitting on her couch when she entered her apartment. His cerulean eyes bored into hers as she stepped into the room before she turned to the man behind her. She hugged Jim Brass and graced him with a shy smile. "Thanks."

Standing at the door frame, he released Sara from his embrace, nodded to his old friend, and left. Nothing verbal had passed between the two men, but the cop's expression had said it all. Take care of her…

Pulling the door shut, Sara pressed her back against the cool wood and wrapped her lean arms around herself. "Don't take this the wrong way…" She began her voice unsure and faltering slightly under the strain of her words. "But what are you doing here?" She wanted to pull her eyes away from his, but his gaze held her as a mix of emotions played across his face. All of them were fleeting and immediately reigned in by the man who had made a second career out of concealing them.

A soft sigh escaped from Gil Grissom, his fingers tracing a slow path across his lips. To someone who didn't know him, it looked like gesture of thought, but Sara knew differently, it was a habit that masked uncertainty. "I think we need to talk."

Sara closed her eyes in exasperation and shook her head. "Don't you think I've talked enough today?" Her sneaker clad toe dug at the hardwood beneath it.

"Not to me." They were only three little words, but the edge in his voice betrayed an underlying anger. He stood up and made his way towards her.

"Okay, fine…" she held a hand up as if telling him to stop. "I'm going to shower and change first though."

"No, first you need to go to the hospital. You need to have an SAE ki-" He closed the gap between them his anger seeming to have evolved into something more anxious and harder to define.

"No." She cut him off immediately, seeking some level of control over her present situation.

"Sara you have to." He gently, but firmly cajoled.

"I know – trinity of evidence. You dodged the bullet on this one. Brass took me after we had dinner."

His gaze darkened searching hers for any sign of deception, while his strong fingers came up to grip her upper arms, only to release then instantly when she winced.

"Bruises…" She whispered, backing away slightly. She knew he would never hurt her but being touched, especially now after having to go to the hospital, was more than a little uncomfortable.

Grissom's wounded look merged with one of anger and curiosity.

"I have bruises there…" Her hands instinctively massaged the areas his had just vacated.

"Show me." It was a demand imparted with the gravity of a plea.

She understood his need to absorb all of the details of her assault it was the only way for him to come to terms with it. An aggrieved sigh escaped her.

_Things just weren't getting any easier, where they? _

The young CSI was wearing a short tank underneath, so she tugged off the track top she was wearing and raised her arms so he could get the full effect.

There as if to represent some morbid branding on her pale skin, was more evidence of what Luke Denton had done to her. The large purplish patches could have been from anything, but the longer lighter contusions extending from them, left little doubt that two clenched hands had made them.

His pulse quickened in rage, a primitive desire to destroy the animal that hurt her, coiled through him, but a faltering "I'm sorry," was all he managed to choke out.

"Stop saying that." Sara spat out angrily, pushing past him and headed for the sanctity of her bathroom. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

She slammed the door decisively behind her. When the sound of the running shower made its way out into the living room, Grissom decided it was safe to make a call, and flipped open his cell phone. It was picked up almost immediately on the other end.

"Brass…" His voice rumbled exhaustedly through the phone line.

"Jim, Sara said you took her into emerge…"

A concentrated sigh escaped the earpiece of his phone. _"Yeah, I picked up the slack for you, this time. Don't make me do it again. I had to stand there and hold her hand, man. Gil, she cried." There was a hitch in his friend's voice and then the line went dead._

Grissom swallowed thickly and dropped onto the couch, his head in his hands. They'd had a similarly painful conversation in the very same room a few months earlier. He could still remember her tears. They had made him ache.

Sara emerged twenty minutes later after trying unsuccessfully wash away the day's emotional grime. The shower had done little to alleviate the ache of reality sitting in her chest, but the coolness of the washcloth she'd rested over her eyes for a few moments and a dose of Tetrahydrozoline had helped to reduce the swelling and the redness brought on by her tears.

She hadn't bothered to dry her hair, just toweled it off and threw on a dark navy tracksuit emblazoned with SFPD. It was huge and familiar and she wore it like a protective armor as she stepped out into her living room prepared to face Grissom and his questions. She'd known he would want answers, but had hoped that just once he'd have enough compassion to just go home and leave her alone for the night.

_No such luck_. She thought as she saw Grissom was still on her couch, flipping through one of her many magazines and waiting. Sara wasn't up to another intimate confession in her living room so stepping around the couch she glanced back over her shoulder towards the kitchen area and carefully avoided his stare. "Have you eaten?"

Surprise etched his features. "No… But it's okay. I'll grab something later."

. "Is an omelet okay?" Ignoring his protest and silent request she sit with him; the tall brunette turned back towards the kitchen

"Sara..." He was following her. "I want talk, not food." He said tersely.

She brought her gaze to bear on him, determination hidden behind her dark orbs. "It's a package deal." Her delicate fingers splayed out nervously. "You get your talk and I get something to do with my hands. Okay?" She swallowed hard at her honesty. _Couldn't he see that this was going to hurt?_

Turning she reached for the fridge door and yanked it open. Compiling the list of ingredients in her head she rummaged around in her vegetable crisper and snatched out a pepper, a bag of mushrooms, and half an onion. "Do you want some cheese?" She inquired plunking the other items on the counter with more force than necessary.

Food was absolutely the last thing on Grissom's mind, so he just shrugged a non-committal, "Whatever… Sara I…"

Her hands stilled as she fixed him with a tight stare. "Look, you can have your omelet the way you like it or if you are going to be uncooperative you'll have to suffer through my version which includes tofu… not my dog…" She hastily added.

He grimaced at the thought of the white Jello-like substance. It reminded him way too much of rotten milk. Grinning painfully he nodded. "Cheese will be fine."

"I thought so…" Sara turned back to the refrigerator removed a brick of cheese and a carton of eggs.

Placing them on the black granite counter, she nodded for him to take a seat on the stool in front of the breakfast bar and sucked in a wavering breath. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" The words came out easily enough, but the dread they brought with them clung coldly to her insides. Sara knew that he would want details, details that would open up old wounds. Wounds that very few aware of.

"When was the first time?"

She was not sure what she'd expected. Maybe a casual lead up or a question that wouldn't cut so much, but she got neither. Tugging a colander from one of the drawers Sara grabbed the vegetables distractedly and ran them under the tap. Using the actions as a delay, her eyes rested anywhere, but on the man who had uttered the words.

"You'll need to clarify that a little – there have been a lot of firsts in my life, Grissom." She remarked coolly, trying her best to keep the break out of her voice and hoping desperately that he wasn't asking about the very thing she knew he was.

"You told Sofia that you've had a kit run before. When? Was it at Harvard? Was it Denton?" His words sounded remarkably calm, but they were laced with an underlying tension, a perfidy of his true emotions.

She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "No…" Carefully placing the strainer on the counter, Sara's hands shook as she removed a bright green pepper from it. "You know, I may not be most socially adept person and I would even go so far to admit that I am relationship challenged. Especially, in light of today's revelations, but I'm not stupid." She impaled him with a look at the same time sinking a paring knife into the crisp flesh of the pepper. "I would never have gotten involved with him here – if that had been the case." She trimmed the top off and removed the seeds. "Further more I would have warned everyone else off. Okay?"

"No. None of this is okay, Sara." He said plaintively and willed his stomach to stop churning. "If it wasn't Luke and it wasn't Harvard, then when?"

She shook her head negatively. "This, it's not important. It has no bearing on the present." The pepper was split into long thin strips under Sara's skilled hands. "Trust me..." She diced them and put them into a bowl. Mentally willing him not to push, not to make her tell him the story that she had buried so long ago.

Taking his glasses off Grissom massaged away the exhaustion behind his eyes. He hated doing this, but felt compelled to continue. "I trust you, but I want to know." He corrected himself. "I need to." His words were soft, almost pleading and she felt helpless to deny him.

Sara grabbed the onion and ripped into it with the knife, the intense smell of it assaulting her. She wasn't a big fan of onions – they always made her cry. "Doc Robbins heard a little of it this morning actually." She pursed her lips; her focus never leaving the vegetable under her knife even when her eyes began to water. "The broken arm was only part of the story. The most palatable part." She added.

Drawing her gaze up to meet Grissom's she quickly dropped it back to the onion. His face was a mask; a chaos of emotions hidden behind a deep sigh and divulged only by the white skin of a tightly balled fist he had placed on the counter between them.

_This is going to hurt_. Sara reminded herself, but forced her lips to move anyway.

"I, uh… I had been in the system for eighteen months and been in a few places before hand. None of them were great, not even good really, in fact most sucked." She grinned dryly, her fingers separating the onion slices and laying them flat on the cutting board.

"Every time they set you up to send you out to a new place, they feed you the same story; how they were nice people who couldn't have kids, but just wanted to help. It's all bullshit and usually quite different once you get there. You tend to find out the truth pretty quickly." She drew the blade through the slides dicing them expertly before turning to the mushrooms and wiping away a tear.

"Onions…" She grimaced, before continuing. "It took a little longer for me at the Cronack residence. Debbie, the wife, she worked nights as a waitress. Jeff, the husband, I think he'd been fired or something, because he was always home and always drunk. That may have been what possessed them to take in more foster kids. I mean, I pretty much knew the score, but there were things that I missed." Sara's hands slowed; hovering over the mushrooms as her stare shifted from the milky fungus to somewhere past Gil Grissom's head. "Or maybe I wasn't actually paying attention. I don't know." A harsh breath rose in her throat and she used it to force the contents of her stomach back into place.

"Do you have any idea what it is like to live in a place that is supposed to be your home, yet you feel like a complete outsider?" She hadn't intended to verbalize the question. It had simply been a disjointed thought that had scampered through her head and skidded out her mouth.

"There have been times that I felt like that about the planet I live on." Grissom smirked slightly trying to lighten the mood, yet frantically wishing to put off the inevitable answer his question. It was something he both wanted to know and yet desperately didn't want to hear.

A well manicured eyebrow popped up and she almost smiled. "Been there, too..." Sad eyes studied him for a second before dropping back to the task at hand. _Mushrooms wait for no one…_

Her fingers moved in a fluid motion over the vegetables. "There was a girl named Keltie, pretty, blonde hair, blue eyes. She was maybe thirteen, she'd been there for a year before I arrived and you could tell she'd been in the system a long time. She was tough; smoked, did drugs, the works." Collecting the remnants of her work, Sara dropped them into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients and threw a tentative glance Grissom's way.

He had done his best to put on a winning poker face. The only tell-tale sign of his true emotions was a thick swallow past the lump in his throat and the further whitening of his clasped hands. He wanted to reach out to her, but he knew his attempt at comfort would be rebuffed.

"Raymond," She continued wistfully. "He came a month after me. He was my age and he was very gay." Intense sadness edged her voice and settled in her eyes. "Jeff harassed him constantly, called him homo, queer boy, flying fag. You name it and he'd yelled it at him, at one time or another. I would have been inclined to spit his head open with one of his own beer bottles, Not Ray, he just took it like it didn't hurt, but you could tell by the way he hung his head, it did." Pulling the pungent block of cheese free from its wrapper, Sara ran the clean end along a small grater and watched as it piled up in the bowl she'd placed under it. The smell soothed her and a distant flash of memory teased as it played out across her mind. She and her mother hand in hand at the farmer's market, fresh milk, fresh eggs, and fresh cheese; it was the scent and comfort of home. The home she'd had before her life gone to hell in a hand basket.

"Sara…" Grissom's heart hurt and his mind was a turmoil of feelings, but he managed to find his footing and moved to come around the counter. Only to be stopped by the warm press of a trembling hand against his hand. It was a study in contrasts, the living heat of her palm versus the cold lifelessness of the granite beneath his.

"If you want me to finish, please stay where you are." While her voice quivered, the certainty in her words indicated that she was deadly serious. Sara waited for him to return to his seat before giving his fist a slight squeeze and letting go.

A slim finger tucked an errant curl behind her ear before she continued. "Ray and I talked sometimes, but mostly I kept to myself. I'd signed up for two night school courses and they kept me away from the house four nights a week. I had a part time job on weekends and spent the rest of the time studying either at the library or in my room. I wanted out so badly, but I should have paid more attention." She scolded herself, before roughly shoving aside the cheese and snatching four eggs from the carton. They cracked and slid easily into the bowl.

"It was actually Ray who noticed it, may be because he was so attuned anything sexual or …" Sara let out a small humorless huff. "I don't know, but one night I was helping him with his chemistry homework and he pointed out that Keltie, who didn't work, always had enough money to keep her in booze and cigarettes. He knew where it was coming from, too."

"Was she selling herself?" Grissom asked gently.

Pursing her lips into an almost pucker, Sara nodded, poured a small amount of cream in with the eggs and began to whisk them. "In a manner of speaking… Jeff would pay her for her nightly services." The whisker halted and clanked noisily as it dropped into the sink. Two small pans appeared from a drawer and ended up on top of the stove, vegetables in one and eggs in the other along with a dollop of butter and some spices.

Sara's back was to him now, giving Gil Grissom a moment to prepare for what he knew was coming next.

"I guess he got tired of paying." The uttered words were soft and barely audible, but carried the weight of a sledgehammer. "One night, it was a Friday so I didn't have school or work and there was a rainstorm so I stayed in. We were home alone, but everyone else was out and he came up to my room."

The vegetables were slightly browned, so she slipped them into the pan containing the eggs and grabbed the cheese from the counter behind her. _As she moved _her gaze caught his; anger and denial were etched into Gil Grissom's expression, but Sara chose to ignore it, otherwise, she would have immediately lost the courage to finish the story.

"I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw his face." Closing her eyes against the painful assault of the memory...

Sara's attention shifted from the task at hand, to study the haunted woman reflected back at her in the smoky glass of her microwave oven. Behind her, she could see Grissom; his hand clasped tightly over his mouth, his gaze never wavering from her back. "He was a big man; maybe six-four and two-fifty. He smelled of stale sweat, beer and cigarettes." Removing a spatula from the drawer, the young CSI returned her focus to the omelet. Folding one side over carefully, she watched as the soft egg enfolded the rest of the ingredients. "I broke both bones in my right forearm fighting him off." She shook her head. "He was so strong."

Her words cracked under the strain of the memory. "He… ah… he managed to pin me down, but when he did, he put all of his weight on the same arm and broke my humerus in two places." She stopped, as a phantom ache snaked its way up her arm. Bringing her free hand up, she involuntarily massaged the path it traveled.

"I was in a cast for months." A small sigh escaped her lips. "I don't think it took very long, but it felt like forever and it hurt like hell. After he finished and was trying to get up I nailed him with my knee and then I passed out from the pain. When I came to Ray was there, holding me. He stayed with me until the ambulance arrived." A tight guffaw escaped her lips as she flipped the omelet over and browned the other side. "I found out later, that I had kicked him so hard that I burst one of his testicles. He almost died."

Sara's hands were shaking as she reached overhead and removed a plate from the cupboard. This and the moistness in her eyes was the only indication of the story's effect on her. She thought she heard him mutter "Would have served him right if he had."

Turning she placed the plate on the counter before allowing her gaze to settle on the man sitting in front of her. His expression was one of tightly restrained hostility. It was the easiest emotion to process, but Gilbert Grissom was certain that there was someone or something ripping his heart out of his chest. He held his hands beneath the counter top, his fingernails digging harshly into his palms. He tried to keep the anguish he felt for her from registering on his face. She wouldn't want his pity but he didn't know what to say.

"Umm… you know my foster sister - Keltie, she is a crack head by all standards of the definition. She already has um… two kids in the system and you can find her at any given time on the corner of Broadway and Montgomery. I drop by to see her whenever I fly in. I give her some money, which she promptly smokes." A poignant sigh escaped Sara's mouth, but was quickly chased away by a look of deep affection. "And Ray, he and I still keep in touch weekly. He's much better off. He's umm… he's married to a great guy named Matt; and they've got a small place by the water. But twice a week, like clockwork, he goes to visit a woman a lot like your _friend_ Lady Heather." She swallowed back at the distaste of having said the name. Some things were still painful. The subject of this woman was one of them. "When I ask him why, he tells me, Sara baby, the physical pain beats the shit out of the mental anguish..."

Grissom's stomach lurched at the mention of Heather instantly a denial of their friendship quickly jumped to his lips, but he shoved it aside.

"You know, I've never told anyone this story." Her eyes bored into Grissom sharing with him the unbreakable resolve she'd formed over the years. Her hand still forcefully gripping the omelet filled skillet. "And I know you are probably thinking that it is to hide the humiliation and pain of it. Admittedly, on some level I do feel all that, but the main reason is that I just don't want to have to see the looks of embarrassment and pity on other peoples' faces. I don't deserve it." She looked down at the food in her hand realizing, fleetingly that it was getting cold.

Confusion was the forefront of expression, so she sought to explain.

"I don't want anyone's pity, because despite everything I'm very lucky. I could have been an addict, a hooker, abused or an abuser, but I'm none of those things. I beat the odds." Her words were careful and measured. Skillfully, she slid the omelet out of the skillet onto a plate and placed it in front of him along with a fork. Her dark eyes capturing his. "I do, however, have an aversion to men named Jeff." She grinned softly at him. "You know, you could be a doppelganger to Brad Pitt himself, but if you told me your name was Jeff, I'd be outta there so fast..."

Reaching into the fridge she removed a carton of organic orange juice and dropped it on the counter along with a glass, reached under the counter and removed a full bottle of vodka. Placing it next to the juice she indicated he could have some it if he wanted.

Gil Grissom licked his lips, a simple action meant as a diversion, in this case it gave him a moment to try and form a coherent thought that wouldn't come off sounding trite or scripted, but he was at a complete loss.

She smirked bravely. "Now that you know my secret, maybe you should change your name to Jeff."

Grissom was seriously disturbed by the implication of her words. "I like my name just the way it is, thank you..."

The lanky brunette was unsure of what to make of the comment and decided to take it at face value. "Yeah, me too... But it is an option if you ever want to get rid of me." Her smile was tentative as she made her way around the counter and towards the couch. A warm hand reached out and grabbed hers as she passed by.

"Sara...?" His voice was plaintive and painted with an agonizing uncertainty, but his eyes said it all_; h_e wanted to do or say something, anything to change what had happened.

"I'm okay, Gris..." She grinned nervously at him, squeezed his hand and tried to pull away. Putting some distance between the two of them now would allow her to maintain the carefully controlled façade she'd manage to establish, but if he held onto her much longer and forced her to look into his eyes, she would have most certainly crumbled. "Please... I'm fine."

"No..." He shook his head. "No you're not…" He held onto her and stepped in front of her. "Why didn't you tell me, about this and about Luke...? When you left his place, why didn't you call me?" He slipped his free hand under her chin and forced her to look at him.

The young CSI closed her eyes holding back the tears in them and shook her head. "Not now, okay?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Now, Sara. I need to know." The heat of his hand on hers disappeared, as he moved it to grasp the other side of her face. "Look at me."

That was absolutely the last thing the willowy brunette wanted to do, but is caress was tender and falsely reassuring. She pursed her lips and bit back on the anguish beginning to float to the surface. Brown met blue as she looked him straight in the eye and for a moment they were both transfixed by the emotion passing between them. She really didn't want to tell him why she hadn't called, it would probably only hurt him more than the veracity of it hurt her, but his words were as demanding as was the tension of his fingers on her face. "I didn't tell you because I knew that you couldn't give me the one thing that I needed."

"I would have given you justice." He held her head fast, his stare challenging and the warmth of his breath on her skin distracting.

Reaching up she placed her palms over his, gently removing his hands from her face, but still holding them she squeezed gently. "I got my justice." There was a hitch in her voice. "And despite everything, it's not what I would have wanted. I would never wish anyone to die, not even him."

"He killed all of those women, Sara. He could have killed you…" The cadence in his voice betrayed the fear that had taken hold of him. The thought haunted him, knowing he would never have had the chance to see her smile again. "You should have come to me."

"It is difficult to prove rape in the best of cases. It would have been my word against his and been impossible to prove. We were involved for months." Tears pooled in her eyes and one escaped leaving a telltale trail of wetness down one speckled cheek. "My only regret is the fact that I probably could have saved the last girl if I had known… Her death is entirely my fault."

"Don't…" The word was hard and angry. "Don't you dare blame yourself!" As mad as he seemed, his touch was tender when it came up to brush away her errant tears.

The whole situation was far too intimate for Sara's battered heart. "Eat your omelet. I need to sit down." She told him and moved, unsteadily towards the larger of the two couches, creating the much needed distance between them. She'd almost made it over to the first couch before his voice broke the relative quiet. "Sara… If justice wasn't what you wanted… Then what was it?"

Unsure of her voice, the young woman studied Gil Grissom a moment and then shook her head. "It's not important."

"It is to me." His words were soft, but determined and typical of the older man. He was intensely focused and doggedly stubborn in everything he did. Why should this be any different? Had the younger CSI been anywhere even remotely close to her normal self, she never would have answered, but most of her resolve had slipped away under the weight of the day. Sara opened her mouth to respond when her doorbell rang. She turned to make her way to the door grateful for the interruption, but his thick hand wrapped around her wrist before she could reach it.

A breath shuddered in her throat, as the bell went off again. "I just needed someone to hold me and tell me that everything would be okay," She smiled sadly at him, pulled her arm free and opened the door.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

This is a fairly heavy chapter and deals with a painful subject. That said enjoy, and please let me know how you feel about it via review. For all of you who review regularly THANK YOU SO MUCH.

This is a lighter chapter... ;o)

**Chapter 22**

"Hey girl…" Two bright green eyes stared back at her from the face of Warrick Brown. "I come bearing gifts." He waved a warm bag stuffed with Chinese food at her and slipped his free hand around her waist. Sara flinched slightly as his arm pressed against the bruising on her back, but she grinned at him anyway.

"Hey Gris…" He nodded to the older man. "Nicky said you'd be here." He looked down at the slender brunette and his voice dropped his concern weighing heavily on it. "He also told me about Luke and the shooting." He drew her with him over to her counter and dropped the bag unceremoniously beside the forgotten omelet, before placing his hands on her shoulders. "You okay? You seemed really upset today. I know it hurts, but we're all here for you, Ya' know…"

The young CSI nodded silently and let him give her a quick hug. The moment was cut short when there was another knock on the door. She looked up at him inquisitively, reached over and pulled it open.

"Hey, hey…" Greg Sanders smiled from the hallway and held up yet another bag of Chinese food. "Hope you're hungry. He sauntered in like he owned the place, at the same time taking in everything in the room. "Nice digs." He dropped the bag by the first on the counter and turned and gave Sara swift hug. He let her go immediately when she let out a soft yelp. "Sorry…" He backed off as Grissom gave him something akin to the evil eye.

"S'okay… I'm nursing a few bruises, that's all..."

"I wanted to come and see you in the hospital, but Ecklie had me pulling a triple. I was so tired when I got off I took a taxi home."

"Didn't they ban you from there the last time, anyway, for harassing all of the nurses…?" Sara smirked about to close the door when another strong hand pushed it open.

"Hey Sunshine…" Nick Stokes entered, carrying a bag of pop and iced tea. "I'm in charge of the refreshments for this partay…" He nodded to Grissom and passed the pop to Warrick before gently pulling his friend into a loose embrace. Pushing her away so he could look at her at arms length he whistled and shook his head. "Man you look like shit."

A loud smack was heard, as a smiling Sara whacked him on the arm. "No worse than that crap assed shirt you have on."

"Ohhh…." Nick grinned at her and smiled. "Yer mean when yer tired."

A satisfied grin crossed the young woman's face as she watched her friends, move about her small place. Reaching to close the door, she stopped when a small blonde head popped around the frame.

"Mom says wait…" It was an effervescent 14 year old Lindsay. "And she says sorry she had to bring me, but Grams is out on a date and I have homework to do."

Two seconds later she was nudged into the room by her mother and ordered immediately over to Sara's desk. "Get your homework done now…"

Sara simply waved at the teen and shrugged sympathetically.

"I was in charge of snacks." The strawberry-blonde passed two bags to Sara who in turn passed them onto Grissom. He'd silently come up behind her and had flashed a worried look in the general direction of the rest of the group.

"Hey… The Wallflowers…" Greg announced after having gone through most of her extensive music collection. "Can I put it on?"

"Sure." Sara nodded and set about opening up the bags on her counter. "But keep it low." She indicated the young girl at her desk. "Hard to do homework when you can't hear yourself think…"

"True. Say…" Warrick pointed at the youngest CSI as he adjusted the stereo. "Who invited him anyway...?"

"I heard that… And you all know that you can have a partay without the Gregmeister…"

"Right… Greggo…" Nick patted the young man on the back and flopped onto the couch as Greg opened the cupboard below the TV.

"Sara Sidle you have been holding out on us." He held up the newest Xbox and indicated the broad collection of games she had. "Are you a closet video game junkie? Oh wow… Isn't this the latest Classified: Sentinel Crisis?"

"Hey cool…" Nick grabbed the game from Greg's hand and waved it in the direction of the kitchen where Sara was busy pulling plates from the cupboard with Grissom's help. "Sar? Can we?"

She turned back and grinned, "Sure go ahead." and resumed gathering the dishes. A warm hand rested on her waist and she turned to look into the face of a very worried Gil Grissom.

"If this is too much for you, I can send them all home." He whispered his mouth mere inches from her ear.

She shook her head and flashed him a tired smile. "It's okay. It's good."

He moved to tuck a loose curl behind her ear and nodded silently. "Alright, but just say the word."

"Thanks…" The tall brunette ignored the heated sensation that the intimacy of his touch brought with it.

"I hate summer school teachers…" Catherine groused and moved into the small kitchen area. "I mean how cruel is it to give a child four hours of goddamn homework a night? The poor kid has not seen the light of day for the past two weeks." The blonde woman began opening drawers randomly until she came across one with the contents she had been looking for. Yanking out a bunch of spoons and forks she placed them on the counter beside the open food containers. "You okay?" She eyed the younger woman.

"Yup…" Sara was content to leave it at a one word answer, but thought back to the groggy conversation they'd had in the wee hours of the morning and decided that opening herself up to the older woman would possibly go a long way towards building a less combative relationship. "I ache all over, but other than the fact that I feel like a walking bruise, it's not too bad. Thank god the vertigo and all that other fun has almost stopped."

"Yeah… about that…"

Sara held up her hand and shook her head. "Grissom told me what you thought, thanks for the concern, but I'm not. I was seriously allergic to the pain meds they prescribed for me at the hospital."

Catherine grimaced. "Oh…"

Sara looked at Grissom who'd gone over to talk to Lindsay for a moment. "Yeah… though I have to admit, the embarrassment of having to provide proof was worth it just to see his face when he asked me to take the test. I don't think I have ever seen so much outright fear in a man's eyes."

The blonde woman laughed just trying to picture it and then she sobered. "Warrick said you looked really upset today. What were you doing at PD, anyway?"

"Some loose ends needed tying up." She shrugged giving no sense of the dread that was shifting through her. "Stuff about Luke." She said quietly.

Somewhere in the confined space of Sara's apartment a cell phone went off. Everyone scattered searching pockets and purses, until they heard Gil Grissom announce his name from across the room.

Moving away from the group to a quiet corner the supervisor listened intently and then called out to Sara. "It's for you…" He held it out to her as she stiffly made her way over to him. "It's Sofia."

The slim brunette took it with trembling hands and relaxed slightly has she felt the warmth of his palm settling carefully on her back. A few seconds later a small smile lit up her face. Grateful, she expelled a quiet "_thanks" _and flipped the phone closed.

"Good news?" His worried blue eyes searched her own dark ones for clues as to the one sided conversation she'd just taken part in.

"Yeah… Umm… They caught the shooter."

"And…?" He knew there was more, he could tell by the inflection in her voice when she had thanked the detective.

"She picked up the finished post on Luke and wanted to let me know that uh… he was healthy…" A small smile played across her face. "No more drugs…"

"Good…" With a gentle hand on her arm he stopped the young woman as she turned to make her way to the bathroom. "I also wanted you to know that they..." He pointed to the group gathered around the long leather ottoman, filling up on Chinese food. "Won't know anything about any of what happened today."

Sara looked at him amazed. "How is that going to happen? You know the lab as well as I do and I can guarantee you that the gossip has already made the rounds at least twenty times."

He shook his head adamantly. "No it hasn't. After I finished with Denton's parents I went to see Under Sheriff McKeen, Sheriff Burdick, and Director Cavallo. I called in a few favors. Everyone who dealt with the case has been given formal notification that all information pertaining to it is confidential and if any of the details get out its grounds for immediate dismissal."

"Wow…" A classic Sara smile transformed her face and she punched him playfully in the arm. "Guess you have more pull than you thought you did or are you going to be cleaning their personal vehicles for the rest of your life?"

He grinned back at her and then massaged her upper arm tenderly. "You should tell them."

Closing her eyes against the words she absorbed them for a moment and then nodded. "I will." She said resolutely. "Not now, but I will. Okay?"

"Good." He pulled on one of her ringlets and watched as it bounced back into place. "I like your hair when it is curly…"

Sara opened her mouth unsure of what to say, but the intimacy of the moment was ruined when a voice from the living area cut in.

"Hey you two, if you don't get over here soon there's going to be no food left…" He pointed to the little blonde girl who'd been given a momentary reprieve from her text books. "This child is a bottomless pit." Warrick poked the girl beside him until she giggled.

Engrossed in the game, both Nick and Greg were doing the one handed food scoop, while still trying to manipulate the paddles.

"I'll be right there…" Sara nodded and headed for the bathroom. Entering it and closing the door behind her she threw opened the medicine cabinet and with much ceremony, dropped each of the almost full medicine bottles into the garbage can. Then breathing a sigh of relief she flicked off the light and joined her friends for some food.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are the best.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

This is a little late - but I suppose better than never.

Enjoy and thank you for all your kind reviews!

**Chapter 23 **

By around nine most of the Chinese take-out, snacks, and drinks were gone. Warrick, Greg and Nick were stiff from sitting on the floor from their impromptu NHL 2006 tournament. Catherine had long since assisted Sara in cleaning up and was groggily trying to help her daughter with her homework. While Grissom and Sara, both exhausted, watched in fascination as the three men vied for the title of world champion.

Sitting beside the elusive Gil Grissom, the young CSI leaned into him unconsciously, the weariness in her bones drawing on the strength of the man beside her. A few seconds later she pulled away, reminding herself that this form of comfort was something she couldn't afford to become reliant on. The situation between them at the present was one born of circumstance and almost certainly things would revert back to the way they always were once she was back on her feet. Reading too much into the present would definitely lead to disappointment in the future.

"That's it man." The tall Texan dropped the pad on the thick multi-hued carpet. "I have got to go to the bathroom."

The other two men let out identical moans at having to pause the game, but were easily distracted when Catherine called them over to help with something that clearly had her stumped.

Sara laughed as she overheard the older woman lament that she was certain the book was wrong. A few minutes' later Warrick was agreeing with her and Greg was saying they were both probably right since his forte was chemistry and the stuff the Lindsay was working on was definitely not Chemistry.

"That's just great…" Lindsay whined mournfully. "Joey Radcliffe says all girls are stupid, especially blondes… I told him I was as smart as he is and that I would prove it, but he's right I can't even do the one question, mom…"

"Well you could have it right; I honestly think the answer in the book is wrong."

Sara was on her feet immediately when she heard the challenge issued by Lindsay's school mate. Peeking over Greg's shoulder she stared at the questions on the page. "Which one are you having trouble with?"

Disgusted, Lindsay pointed to the first question on the page and then flipped to the back of the book where the answer was listed. Nudging Greg completely out of the way now, Sara took a closer look and flipped back to the actual question. "The book is right, and your friend Joey is wrong."

All three of the adults stared at her as she looked over the small blonde's computations. Taking the pencil from her hand she made a few adjustments and then explained them. Pointing to the next question, she told her to try it.

Lindsay studied it a moment and copied out the question and began to work it much like the first one. When she started to go astray, Sara stopped her and explained what it was she was doing wrong. A few minutes later she had completed the second question and the answer was the same as the one in the back of the book. "Try the next one…"

The tall brunette pulled a chair over and dropped in beside her. She did the same as she had done with the first two questions. This time noting that the 14-year old had gotten further along before going off track. "You're getting it." She encouraged the teen, and then stopped her again and asked why she was doing what she was doing. When Lindsay looked at her perplexed, she explained that she didn't understand what she was looking for and why, and that is why she was having trouble. So she explained it to her and then helped her finish the question.

"Keep going..." The young CSI instructed the girl. "Math, chemical equations and physics are the three areas where it is possible to get 100. They are all formulaic, there is always a right answer and they are static, they never change. Once you learn the formulas, where and when to apply them, you will never go wrong."

Lindsay stared at her like she was a goddess. "Wow… can I have your brain?"

Sara laughed and pulled lightly on the girl's long platinum ponytail. "My brain is such a mess right now it should be donated to medical science, but yours is in perfect working order. And believe it or not physics and math can be rather relaxing when you get into the groove."

"I would settle for just being able to get the right answer…" Lindsay said with great melancholy.

"You just did…" She pointed to the question the teen was just finishing up. "Look…"

Lindsay smiled, and nodded.

"See you're quite brilliant and don't ever let anyone tell you anything to the contrary." She grinned over her shoulder at her three colleagues and then pointed back to the page. "Do the rest and let me know if you have any more trouble." Standing up slowly and with painstaking effort Sara was prepared to head back to the couch when she caught sight of Nick, standing in the bathroom door, his jaw tightly clenched.

"Can I see you for a second?" He asked moving back into the bathroom and waiting for her to follow.

"If you got your underwear stuck in your fly again, you are sooo out of luck." She smiled at him trying to make light of whatever it was that apparently had him so upset.

Closing the door over, he pointed to a row of pill bottles lined up on the counter. "What's with this…?"

"You went through my garbage, Nick?"

"

No…" He pointed to the toilet. "I pee standing up. They were directly in my view. I could see that they were full. I thought that they might have been knocked into the waste bucket by accident." He started reading off the names on the bottles. "Levonorgestrel, Combivir, Ciprofloxacin, Doxycycline and Metronidazole..." He picked up one of the bottles, and waved it at her. "Isn't this an HIV drug?"

Sara's face blanched, making her freckles stand out more against its starkness. She didn't have any choice but to answer honestly. "Yes."

Nick stared at her waiting for further explanation, when none was forthcoming, he pressed on. "I don't get it… Are you sick, Sara?"

"No…" The word was drawn out while she fumbled to come up with a reasonable elucidation that didn't require elaborate details and wasn't a lie. She decided to settle on the truth, but an abbreviated version. "They are preventative. All of them."

A typical investigator, he couldn't let it go. "Why do you need them? What's happened?"

Sara was weighing the likelihood of her friend actually knowing the cycle of drugs that followed a sexual assault and sought to ward off any questions that might lead him to that very conclusion. "Look. I was stupid." That was not a lie. Going to Luke's place alone, knowing his preclusions, had been the pinnacle of stupidity. "The last time Luke and I were together, we had unprotected sex." This was also not a lie. They had, though the fact that it was forced upon her wasn't something she was ready to share just yet. "I know Luke had a history, so I just wanted to be safe. That's all…" It actually wasn't all and the look on Nick's face told her he was well aware of that fact.

"Uh uh… There's more to it."

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to quiet the strumming of her rapid heartbeat, Sara nodded in agreement. "You're right and you have to trust that I will tell you, just not tonight. It's been a bitch of a day and I'm fried." She stilled her shaking hands.

The handsome Texan's fists were on his hips now and he looked very much like he wasn't going to settle for her explanation, so she continued. "If it is any consolation, they're in the garbage because I don't need them. The post on Luke revealed that he was in good health. Okay?"

Suddenly Grissom's request the previous night didn't seem so strange, and despite the fact that Luke had come up clean, he was seriously beginning to dislike the man. Dead or not…" He pursed his lips and studied her a moment. "Does Gris know the whole story?"

Slowly, Sara nodded. "Yes." She moved closer and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for caring and I really will tell you. So please don't push this right now…" There were tears beginning to form in her eyes so she turned away. "Just give me a day or two to process everything."

Her friend was nothing if not compassionate. A tentative hand slipped under her chin and he held it fast, staring into her dark eyes for a moment. He could see the tears in them and decided not to push. "Okay…" His hand slipped from her face and he squeezed her shoulder slightly before dropping to his side. His eyes followed her as she moved away, and animatedly dropped the bottles one by one back into the garbage and grabbed the bag lining it. Tying it in a knot she tugged it out of the basket and left him standing there while she went to dispose of the offending evidence in the larger kitchen garbage can.

By the time she returned to the living room everyone had gathered around the TV and was in the process of watching Greg and Warrick compete for virtual control of the world. His mood dampened, Nick had bowed out and was sitting gloomily in an over stuffed chair that Sara had bought less than a week previous. Grissom glanced at Nick and threw a questioning glance at the slender brunette.

A tight grin appeared on her face as she sat on the arm of his Nick's chair and nudged him. "You look like someone stole your horse, Cowboy…"

In response he just grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

At that moment Sara's phone went off and her promise to call her friend, Gina, immediately popped into her head. The two men on the floor paused the game since the teasing banter between the two was far too loud to hear over.

Sara grabbed the cordless off the end table and turned away from the group. "Sidle…" She grimaced slightly at the string of sentences flowing out of the earpiece. "Crap, I'm sorry Gina." She looked at Grissom, and wrinkled her forehead. "I meant to call you as soon as I got in." The young CSI didn't get to say much else as a loud wail escaped the phone with enough volume that everyone else in the room turned to look at the tall brunette. Holding the phone away from her ear she stared at it a moment and then decided to wait until the decibels died down. Then she returned it to her ear and stood up. Her pacing was slow and stiff, but warded off some of the tension her crying friend had caused. "Gina relax, I can't understand a word you are saying." She listened quietly for a few minutes while her friend explained the problem with hiccupping sobs. "You shouldn't let them get to you like that, they're only teasing." Silence followed as the woman sniveled and continued on with her rambling. "Okay… Look… we've both known Jake for years. You, especially, know how he is. Can you put up with the shit we both know he is capable of? Because I can tell you, now, he isn't going to change just because he is wearing a wedding band." Sara's eyes fell to Catherine who was listening and nodding intently, clearly engrossed in Sara's half of the conversation. The answer seemed to take a little longer than a simple yes or no, and was followed with Sara uttering, "Jesus Gina, do you even love him?"

The heavy sigh brought on by her friend's half of the conversation was riddled with dread. "Hon, I am, the absolutely last person you should be asking for relationship advice," Sara was more than tempted to pass the phone over to Catherine or Warrick, in fact anyone else in the room would probably have done better except for maybe Grissom, who was presently watching her with a very focused interest. Clearly, whatever the other woman said had made some sense. "Okay, then screw the nay-sayers and do what you want. " Slim fingers moved to massage her forehead, as her lips disappeared into a serious frown. "I'm not sure what you want me to say. Do you want me to tell you, that I think you're making a mistake?" Sara pressed her palm into her forehead, and rubbed. "Gina, I can't answer that for you… You are the one who has to make that decision." She listened intently a moment. "I can't answer that either." The slim brunette rolled her eyes. "Because I'm not you and it isn't my dream to wake up next to Jake Winfield the second or whatever the hell title it is that he's sporting. It's yours."

A minute went by before Sara coughed and let out a thick "Holy um…" she stared at Lindsay a second and then continued. "cow… Well that was fast." She shook her head in disbelief. "So how did we get from, should I marry him, to will you be my maid of honor, in less than three seconds?" The explanation was short. "Of course…" The young woman grinned. "Yellow? Like banana yellow?" Distaste was written all over her face. "Okay…" She waited. "Yes, he did." She waited again. "Yeah… I'll see you then… Bye…"

A deep moan escaped her lips and she immediately turned to Catherine. "I need to go get a dress for this and I need your help." Everyone in the room laughed.

"Ha, ha…" Sara mimicked. "I know you are all thinking that I probably don't even own a dress."

"We didn't say it, you did." Greg piped up.

"I do…" She smirked at him. "Several, I might add, but none of them repel blood stains, or decomp odors, which is why I don't wear them to work. And none of them are even remotely a stunning shade of yellow."

"Euuuww…" Warrick looked like he had just bitten into something disgusting.

"Yeah..." Sara tossed a pleading look at the older woman and dropped onto the couch beside Grissom, her head immediately going to her hands. "I hate weddings."

"When do you need it for?" Catherine nodded to Lindsay who was in the middle of packing up her books.

"Saturday…"

The blonde woman was thrown by this for a moment and then shrugged. "Alright, I guess we're going shopping tomorrow."

"Actually, you don't have to." She looked guiltily at the blonde teen, who had just joined them with her backpack in hand. "Spend the day with Lindsay. Just give me the name of a few stores. I'll go myself. No need for both of us to suffer."

"No suffrage… Lindsay has summer school in the morning and then she is going out with friends during the afternoon." She motioned for her daughter to follow her. "Gotta get her home…" She nodded to everyone.

"You good with the equations…?" Sara asked the girl as she showed the two of them to the door.

"Better." She responded glumly. "I don't think I'll ever be good."

"Call me if you need anymore help…" Sara announced down the hallway and stuck her tongue out at Cameron Elton who'd curiously popped his head out the door. This drew a giggle from the young girl.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are amazing betas.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

The next chapter is huge but should be posted soon.

Enjoy and thank you for all your kind reviews! Your feedback is duly appreciated.

**Chapter 24**

"You know I can take you shopping if you want to give Catherine a break." Greg offered, before turning his attention to the shelves beside the TV.

"Yeah… no…. thanks, but I don't want to end up looking like an escapee from the playboy mansion." She smiled at the younger man as he began to search her shelves in earnest. "Greg, what are you looking for?"

"A memory card…? I'm whipping this guy's ass, and don't want to start over."

"Top drawer…" She pointed to the cabinet.

"Dream on… Greggo..." Warrick's deep voice boomed across the room. "You need to learn to accept defeat a little more gracefully…" Climbing to his feet, he went over to a small gift bag sitting under a table behind the couch. "This is for you." He passed her the bag and watched as she pulled out a very delicately formed glass dragonfly.

Grissom watched Sara with fascination as a smile lit up her entire face.

"It's beautiful Warrick…" Giving him a quick hug she carefully placed it on one of her shelves.

"Tina wanted to thank you for setting up the 2nd honeymoon thing." He passed her a set of keys from his pocket and pulled out a small photograph album. "She also insisted that I show you these." He slipped a single photo out of the back and passed her the album. "This…" He waved the single picture in her direction. "She wanted you to have it because she said she thought the little girl looked like you."

Sara took the picture from him, and stared at the two children in it. It was actually a photograph of an older framed print. In it, there was a little girl with long loose ringlets, and a completely innocent grin plastered on her face. She wore a pink bathing suit and was standing next to an older boy holding a surfboard. You could tell by the dark eyes they shared, that they were related.

"It was on the fireplace mantel at your friend's beach house."

Greg and Nick both crowded around to get a better look at the picture.

"It is me, me and my brother Evan." She passed the photo to Greg who gawked in amazement. "We spent a month every summer there."

"Nice place…" Warrick commented. "Really, nice place..."

"I didn't even know you had a brother…" Greg passed the photo to Nick.

"Yeah, Sar…" He looked at her questioningly, as she dropped onto the couch next to Grissom who was holding his hand out for the picture.

After a minute of studying the children Nick passed the photo to the outstretched hand of his boss.

Ignoring the two men's looks of amazement, the dark haired CSI opened the album. "I organized a place in Martha's Vineyard for Warrick and his wife... " She told Gil Grissom in response to the look of curiosity on his face and flipped the first photo so he could see the house. He examined it with practiced eyes. It was old but in excellent condition. The style was typical Cape Cod, with a stunning wrap around covered porch running across the back of the house. In the background, he could see the ocean, and well tended gardens. "It must have been a great place to spend your summers."

"It was…" She tried to find the word. "…very relaxing."

Knowing her history, but unable to discuss it with her in their present company, nodded focused his attention on the photo in his hand. It was a secret pleasure to be able to glimpse a part of Sara Sidle's past, because she willingly shared so little. It was also amazing to be able to see the child Sara, unencumbered the trauma of her then, future.

The young woman started at the beginning of the album, gazing thoughtfully at the couple as much as the background. "You went into town…" She recognized some of the businesses in the background.

"Yeah… everything there was overpriced." Warrick perched on the arm of the couch beside his boss, while Greg popped down beside the woman holding the photos.

"Things are always more expensive in Chillmark. They cater to a clientele that can afford it…" Sara informed him nonchalantly.

"Yeah, well I learned my wife has very expensive taste. I swear she was trying to convince me to quit my job and take up something that will pay better. She kept going on about how beautiful the place was and wouldn't it be nice to be able to afford something like it. I told her not on my government salary."

"The Vineyard is only stunning in the summer, that's what makes it such a costly fantasy. In the winter it's not a pleasant place to be. Owning anything there would be a frivolity, Warrick. You could always pick up a nice place here…" She suggested, flipping through the pages, and stopping suddenly at a photo of Tina on the dock in front of a massive boat. "Did you take the Blue Blimp out?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Why not, weren't the keys there?"

"Yeah and the housekeeper said we could use it, but I would probably end up sinking the damn thing and have to pay your friend back for it - for the rest of my life." He added.

"It's old and insured. You should have taken it out." Sara mumbled, distracted by the photos in front of her.

"How big was the place?" Nick had come up behind Sara and was looking over her shoulder from the back of the couch.

"What five bedrooms?" He looked at Sara for confirmation.

"Yeah, and a music room on the second floor…" The answer was distracted as she stared at a photo of Warrick snoozing on the couch. He was in the main drawing room, which got the sun all day long. Tranquil memories of how she'd spent lazy uninterrupted afternoons reading on the couch when she was a kid flooded her mind and warmed her. It was her favorite room in the whole place. And for the first time in a long time she actually missed that part of her past.

"How often does your friend use the place?" Warrick inquired. "It looked like it hasn't been lived in for a while. Definitely not a place for kids... Lots of antiques, keepsakes…I think the furniture alone is worth almost as much as the property."

Sara grinned. "Not quite… but probably close. Uh… my friend doesn't use it much at all. That's why getting you the keys wasn't a problem."

"Hey can you get the keys for me sometime, if I want to take a hot girl there?"

The slim brunette looked at him speculatively. "If you rephrase that and say a special girl I might set something up for you." She winked at him as Nick pointed to the photo in Grissom's hand.

"Where's your brother now?" The Texan enquired still looking over her shoulder.

Sara tossed a glance at Grissom and then up at the man behind her. She wasn't sure how much to tell them, or if she should say anything at all. "Uh… He lives in San Francisco." She replied hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

It wasn't.

"So is he in law enforcement, too?" Greg leaned in trying to get a good look at Tina in a bikini. "She's hot Warrick." He commented and ducked quickly as the big man's hand flew past his head.

"That's my wife, man."

"And I just complimented her." Greg shrugged.

Ignoring Greg's question, the brunette laughed and continued to flip through the album. "You better watch it…" She warned Greg and then stopped as her eyes fell on a photo of a small sculpture sitting on a very expensive Chippendale end table. Looking across to Warrick who was sitting in front of her on the edge of the ottoman she held the album and pointed to the present picture. It was a hand-sized sculpture of a baby nestled in some blankets. "Why did she take a picture of this?"

Her friend shook his head and shrugged. "Well, she's really been pushing me about kids lately, but mostly she said it was beautiful, and whoever the artist was, was very talented."

"Ha…" The laugh had a tinge of sarcasm to it. "I made it when I was nine. My mom helped me a little, more with the design as opposed to the actual hands on work. She liked to sculpt." A look of confusion fell across her face. "I have no idea how it ended up there, though." She remembered the last time she'd seen it was in the middle a huge brawl. She was certain that it had been broken in the scuffle, but hadn't stuck around to find out for sure.

"It's very detailed." Nick's chin rested on her shoulder as he pointed to the baby's tiny nose.

"I was bored that day. I had a lot of time to spend on it. My best friend was visiting his dad. I think… I just grabbed some of her clay and started toodling with it."

"You grew up in San Francisco, right?" Greg took the album from her hands and stared down at the little clay infant.

"Tamales Bay, it's outside of San Fran."

Sensing that the conversation was slipping back to a place the young woman

beside him probably wouldn't want to go, Grissom looked at his watch and nodded to the three men. It was after 10:30, he was bone weary and Sara was no doubt worse. "Enough questions for tonight." He noted that she had finished the album so he took it from her hands and passed it back to Warrick. "Don't let your wife talk you into anything that you are not ready for." He stood up and reached a hand down for Sara. "You need to get some sleep, Sara. Say goodnight."

All three of the men were surprised at the protectiveness Grissom was presently displaying. Sara in particular registered surprise; but placed her hand in his, regardless, and allowed herself to be pulled up from the couch. Pointing to the few glasses left on the table, she reluctantly let go and quickly scooped them up before he could protest. She was still feeling more than a little shaky on her feet and while the occasional bout of dizziness would catch her off balance. She had to admit that being with her coworkers had eased her mood somewhat. Not that the emotional turmoil was over by a long shot, but the few hours of light banter and laughter had been distracting, if not healing.

Loading the final few dishes into the already crammed dishwasher, Sara peeked up over the counter as Greg called her name. "I forgot. Judy gave me a package for you…" The youngest of the CSIs visually searched the room for the thick manila envelope that he'd retrieved from reception, and finally spotted it on the floor beside his shoes. Snatching it up he brought it over to her and held it up.

Waving her hands she indicated that they were dirty from messing with the dishes, and nodded to it. "Open it for me…" The slim brunette leaned back into the dishwasher; to try and reorganize it a little more for the sake of the last used glass. The friendly repartee between Warrick and Nick ceased almost immediately and was quickly replaced by an almost palpable nervous silence. This instantly drew Sara's attention and she quickly stood up, her eyes falling on the glittering object in Greg's hand.

Panicked by the ghostly pallor that fell across his friend's face he dropped the ring back into the box and threw it back into the envelope.

Grissom was around the counter immediately, his hands gently wrapping around her as she bent over the sink, visibly trembling as she tried to steady herself. He shot the young CSI a withering look.

Whatever he said was lost on her amidst the mantra that was running through her head. The words "I will not throw up…" reeled over and over through her mind, but it was no use. Within seconds, she'd extricated herself from her boss's arms and could be found with her face hovering over the toilet, yet again. "Goddammit…!" She muttered angrily, slamming the door and pushing the garbage can across the room. It spun and rocked a moment before clattering against the cupboard and hitting the floor. Dropping onto the cool tile she leaned her head up against the wall, a silent parade of tears streaming down her face.

"Sara…" The knob jiggled, but she had locked it behind her. "Sara? Are you, alright?" Gil Grissom's heart clenched. The loud smash on the other side of the door had numerous scenarios running through his head. None of them were good. "Sara…" He hammered the door again; terrified that she might have fallen and was lying cataleptic on the floor. "I'm going to have to break the door in if you don't answer me."

Rubbing away the salty liquid flowing from the corners of her eyes, Sara consciously slowed her breathing, and did her best to steady her voice. "I'm okay…" The words sounded like a lie even to her own ears, but she hoped that at least it would calm him enough so he would give her a moment to recover.

In the living room Greg stood staring at the note in his hand. "I'm sorry, Gris…" He called to the man standing in front of the bathroom door. "I had no idea…" He had removed the ring from its case and took a closer look at it.

Warrick let out a slow whistle. "Nice rock."

Nick took it from the younger man's hand. "It's a nice rock that should have been on Sara's finger." He held it out so the other two men could get a look at the inscription. "No wonder she got so upset. Poor girl, hell I had no idea they were this involved." He ran his hand through his hair. "I mean I know they were dating, but engaged…? Marriage…?"

"Way ta go Greggo." Warrick patted the younger man on the back.

"I didn't know, dude… I swear… You know I would never do that to Sara."

Leaning up against the door, Grissom listened to the conversation absently. Part of him wanted to correct the three men. Tell them that they were mourning the loss of a monster. The other part knew that it was Sara's story to tell, the comment he wanted to make would likely be met with a slew of questions, which he wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

Nick Stokes grabbed the note still clutched in Greg Sanders' hand, and scanned it. Out loud he summarized it or everyone in the room. "It's from Denton's parents telling her that Luke was their only child, they knew that he loved her, and had for a…" Confusion edged the Texan's voice. "For a long time… and that it should be hers. He meant for her to have it." His dark eyes squinted and he walked towards the man presently slumped against the bathroom door. Planting himself in front of him he waved the paper in his direction. "For a long time…?"

Grissom massaged his beard, and looked away from the young man in front of him. "She knew him from Harvard. Apparently, they had a history."

"You knew this?" Warrick asked his green eyes both curious and baffled. He and Greg had both moved to join the other two men, and had overhead Grissom's comment

Thick fingers massaged their way through graying curls. "I just found out today." His hand was immediately up before the inquiries even had a chance to roll off of the other men's tongues. "But these aren't my questions to answer and as much as she's been through, I'm not going to let you interrogate her tonight." His words had an air of finality indicating that there would be no room for negotiation. "Clear?"

All three men bobbed their heads, as Grissom grabbed the note from Nick and shoved it back into the envelope Greg was still holding. Warrick scrambled to throw the ring in too as he heard the soft click of the bathroom door lock releasing.

All four men cleared a path as a bleary-eyed brunette exited the bathroom, and smiled tightly at them. "I, uh, lost most of the Chinese food, but managed to hold onto the sandwich Brass bought me…" She told them lightly the flush of her cheeks speaking of her embarrassment.

Greg was the first to talk. "I'm really sorry, Sara… If I had known…"

Sara shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's... It's okay..." Nervous hands tugged her ringlets back from her face. "Thanks for the dinner and the company." She averted her eyes from the troubled stares aimed at her.

"Sar, we had no idea, you know…" Nick swallowed down the lump in his throat. "…that things were that serious… That you were talking marriage." He reached out to hug her, but she shook him off.

Closing her eyes against the salvo of emotions, Sara steadied her voice and backed away from four sets of alarmed eyes. "He was talking marriage." She turned and moved towards her bedroom. "I wasn't. I don't know what I was doing or thinking." Her admittance was whispered in a low hitched voice. She stopped at the doorway and threw a sad smile at the four pairs of eyes staring at her. "Things that are not at all - are never lost."

Grissom absorbed the quote and it's meaning immediately, but the expression of confusion displayed by the three younger men, forced her to continue. "I didn't love him." She said sadly and then entered the room closing the door firmly behind her.

Both Nick and Warrick's mouths dropped, while Greg just stood there mystified his hands crammed into his pockets. Grissom was the only one unruffled by Sara's admission. He reached out and took the envelope from Warrick, who'd ended up with it hidden behind his back.

Nick shook his head, and eyed his supervisor. "Boss, please tell me you understand all of this."

Dog-tired, Gil Grissom let out a deep sigh and raked his fingers across his beard. "I do." He walked over to his duffle bag beside the door, and crammed the envelope into the bottom of it. "We've discussed it and Sara will tell you when she is ready. Just don't pressure her, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem…" Nick's words were slow and drawn out, as though he were contemplating further inquiry. He didn't get a chance.

Sensing his friend's unwillingness to let the issue go, Warrick clapped him on the back and nudged Greg towards the door. "We gotta be at work in an hour." He moved over to the couch and snatched the photo album off of it. Then he turned to the older man. "Cath said you're off tonight."

"It was a scheduled night off. I'm taking it for once." He opened the door and nodded. "Page me if you need me, though."

"Sure…" Warrick left followed by the other two.

"Hey boss…" Nick turned half way down the hall. "Is she…?"

Grissom knew exactly what the younger man was asking. "No…"

Nick seemed to consider this a moment, and then nodded. "Take care of her."

"Yeah… and tell her I'm sorry, again." Greg added, before the older CSI shoved him into the elevator.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are amazing betas.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

This chapter is short but I will be posting a longer on this evening and then another tomorrow.

**Sorry about the wait. If you have this story on auto emailer or auto notification then you might want to read the chapter before this - the system was down when I posted it to FF. net and some of you may not have received notification.**

Enjoy and thank you for all your kind reviews! Your feedback is duly appreciated.

**Chapter 25**

Grissom closed the door and leaned his head on the cool wood. At that moment a loud crash reverberated through the apartment and sent a panicked Bugman running directly into the bedroom. "Are you okay?" The words fell from his mouth and he spun immediately turning his back to the woman standing in the middle of the room. "Sorry…" He mumbled, the vision of the tall brunette dressed in a pink lace tank and matching underwear was forever burned into his brain.

"Hold on." She turned and grabbed a silky robe from where she had slung it over the bedside table, and drew it around her. "You can turn around."

He did as he was told to find her fastening the robe tightly around her small waist. "I'm sorry, I…" He stared at the large mattress, which was hanging half on the floor whilethe linens that used to dress it bunched into a pile in the corner. "What are you doing?"

Sara indicated the mess. "I needed to flip it. They cut holes into it and the springs are poking out." She turned and grabbed the sheets and shoved them angrily into the hamper outside of the unfinished bathroom's door. "Gris...?" She looked at him pensively. "Who cleaned up?" The last time she'd seen her home it had been covered with print powder, luminol and a lot of her rifled through belongings.

"Me and a short round Italian woman, who said her name was Rosa." He smirked, his mind drifting back to the memory of Sara in her lace undergarments. _T_he vision was marred only by the visible bruises decorating her pale skin, _h_e shook the thought away. "She said she was your housekeeper and came by to see you after watching the news."

Sara nodded. Rosa had left the bed stripped with the linens piled on top of it, but had cleaned up the rest of the mess. "It wasn't her day."

"I wanted to pay her, but she said no."

"I'll take care of it when I see her next." She turned and reached for the mattress. "I've flipped it. I just need to get it back on the bed properly." She informed him and waited as he took up a position on the other side.

Together the two made short work of fixing the bed.

"Thanks." Sara perched tiredly on the edge of the freshly dressed mattress and examined the pattern on the comforter. She couldn't bring her eyes to meet those of the man standing at the end of her bed.

"Are you okay?" He sat beside her and took one delicate hand in his.

"I'm numb. My guts have been exposed for all to see and peopled have been picking through them revealing parts of me that are supposed to stay inside." She refused to cry again, but one lone tear escaped despite the decision her head had made.

Grissom wanted to kiss the tears from her eyes and hold her until she felt whole again, but he didn't want to push her into intimacy that she may not be ready for. Instead, he squeezed her hand and climbed to his feet. Leaning over he brought his mouth to the top of her head and placed a kiss amongst the silken curls there. "It always seems darkest before the dawn, but you're a survivor and you're stronger than anyone I know. It's just going to take a little time."

She smiled at him gratefully and watched his broad back as he exited. "Gris…"

"Yeah…"

"Both couches actually turn into beds and there's more fresh linen in the bathroom closet."

"It's okay…" He wandered out into the main room intent on collapsing, but Sara followed him.

"If you have to spend another night here, you might as well be comfortable." She moved into the bathroom and returned a few seconds later with a handful of sheets and a proper pillow. Shoving the ottoman aside she passed him the pile, then removed the couch cushions, and with a huff yanked the bed out.

"Stop… you're going to pop a stitch or something." He dropped the sheets on the opposing sofa and unfolded the rest of the bed. "You didn't have to do this." He looked across at her."

"Yes I did. You need to be able to walk to work a scene. More than two nights on this couch and you'll need to see a chiropractor." Grabbing the fitted sheet she went to make the bed but was stopped by a warm hand on her arm.

"Go to bed. I can do this. I'm a bachelor remember… I can even match my own socks and fold my underwear."

One eyebrow went up. "You fold your underwear?"

He looked at her and grinned. "Ms. Sidle go to bed. I'm not discussing the state of my underwear with you."

Smiling, despite the weight of the day, Sara turned and called over her shoulder. "Not fair you've already seen me in mine…" With that she moved into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The enigmatic Bugman nodded and muttered under his breath. He didn't need to be reminded. Sara in pink lace... It was a vision he wasn't likely to forget.

_**Sara's apartment**_

_**Aug 24, 1:30am**_

She'd spent three hours tossing and turning. Sighing, Sara Sidle finally drew herself out of bed and padded silently to her dresser drawers. Sleep would not be coming any time soon. Her mind was awash with terrifying memories, some of which were so close to the surface that they were causing her actual physical pain. The bruises were very much a tender testament to what she had been through, but it was the internal tears that were causing the sharp aching.

Rummaging through her drawers she pulled out what she considered to be her fat jeans. They were one or two sizes too large, but would serve their present purpose, normalcy tempered with comfort. To wear anything tighter was a painful endeavor with the waist band sitting directly on the ridge of bruises running across her back, so these would have to do.

She slipped them on over her underwear and fastened them. Next she threw on a soft gray zip up hoodie and socks, and grabbed a small stack of ten dollar bills she kept between the pages of an entomology text she had in her bedside table. Sara needed to get out. She wasn't sure where she was going to go, but the walls were beginning to close in on her again and she knew that anywhere on the streets of Vegas would be better that trapped in a bedroom with her reminiscences.

Tiptoeing out into the main room and past the man sprawled on the sofa bed, Sara almost made good her escape before she was stopped by a quiet voice in the darkness.

"Sara, where are you going?" Gil Grissom was already up out of bed; his slightly bowed legs already having closed half of the distance between them.

"I just need to get out of here." She told him softly. "Go back to sleep, you need your rest. I'll be fine."

He shook his head. "No." His eyes slid to the day glow clock on the stove and he took in the numbers. "It's past one in the morning. Where do you want to go?"

She stared out the window and shrugged. "Out, anywhere…" Her dark eyes said it all, they were haunted and frightened. "Go to sleep. I'll be back soon. I just need..." She was at a loss for words, so she simply pointed out the window.

He held his hand up. "Give me a minute. I'll get dressed. We'll go together."

"You don't have to." She intoned quietly.

"I know." He grabbed his discarded jeans from earlier and stepped into them. "I want to." He told her grabbing his sweater off of the couch as he made his way past it. He tugged it on and grabbed his glasses. "Come. I have an idea."

He held his hand out to her after they had both put their shoes on. Sara took it tentatively; her fingers limp in the clutches of his, almost as if she didn't want to acknowledge his touch. They made their way to the Denali like that.

"Gris…?" She turned to him once he was seated in the truck.

"Hmmm…" He was distracted wrestling with the seatbelt.

"Are my purse, keys and cell phone in evidence?"

The lock finally slipped into place and Grissom turned to her the look of embarrassment on his face telling her that he hadn't really thought of it. "Uh, oh, yes. Actually, I have your purse in my office, the cell and the keys because they were on your person when you were injured are in evidence." He rubbed the residual sleep out of his eyes, with one curled fist. "I'm sorry. I should have realized that they were things you needed." He studied his hands that had finally settled on steering wheel. "Purses… I guess it's a man thing…" He shrugged his eyes drifted to her, silently asking for forgiveness.

Sara shook her head. "No it's a Grissom thing." She sighed.

The man beside her nodded sheepishly. "You're right." He admitted. "Sometimes I can be insensitive and stupid." He turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

The look in the brunette's dark eyes was very telling. "Insensitive…? Occasionally! Stupid...? Never! Oblivious...?" She contemplated this. "Oblivious…? Often!" She shifted her shoulders a little trying to relieve the tension that had settled there. "It's okay. I'll pick it up tomorrow night. Catherine's driving us in the morning. I have money and a credit card at home for my shopping, so I'll just grab the purse when I come into work."

Grissom stopped backing out of the parking spot and gawked at her in amazement. "Sara you're not coming back to work tomorrow night. You need a little more recovery time. You still have your stitches in and you have been through some serious emotional trauma." Putting the car in park, he turned to the young woman beside him and gripped both of her hands in his. "You need to get an okay from your doctor, before you return. For your own sake I don't want you to come back too early. I don't want you to get injured again."

Pulling her hand from his she turned away from the worry in his eyes and stared out the window in front of her. Her voice was light, but her words held weight. "Please don't take this wrong, but this isn't about what you want. It's about what I need." She allowed her dark orbs to fall on his. "Don't throw up a roadblock. I know my limits."

Frustrated, Gil Grissom shook his head in disbelief. "This from the woman who went to work 6 hours after she had been raped, Sara…" He shook away the vision of the woman he loved, screaming and terrified. "God damnmit… I still can't believe he did that to you…" Anger and frustration was woven into his words. "I thought he loved you. I thought you would be happy with him. I thought he would take care of you the way you deserved to be cared for... I thought you loved him."

His knuckles were white against the dark leather of the steering wheel. He had a death grip on it to keep himself from putting a fist through something. It was only now that he realized how incredibly mad he was. Until this point he'd been able to fend off the emotions by focusing on the care of the woman beside him, but now they were drifting to the surface and overflowing.

"You put a lot of thought into _my_ relationship." She commented dryly.

"Yeah… I did, actually." He challenged.

Unable to meet his gaze, the young CSI kept her focus on the dull grey walls of the parking garage. She didn't want to get caught up reading anything more into what he was saying, than was actually on the surface. Everything he was feeling was coming off of him in waves. She didn't want to be affected by it. She just wanted to forget. "Haven't you heard that people often hurt the ones they love?" She said lightly and then realizing the dual meaning of her words was only exacerbating the problem, she simply added. "It wasn't love on my behalf and him… I have no idea what he felt. He said it was love, but it was clearly something sick and twisted."

"You keep saying you didn't love him, but you must have felt something for him, Sara." His words lay between them like an accusation.

"It was… a mistake. People make 'em all the time. This one was a doozy."

"Sara…"

"I really don't want to self analyze tonight, Gris. This is why we're out here; I was lying in bed doing the same thing. I honestly don't know how I feel, how I felt or what I was thinking." She stopped for a moment and studied the white stenciled numbers marking her parking spot. Finally, when she was sure she could hold back the tears threatening to spill, she allowed herself to look at him. "Let's just go. Okay?" Her eyes pleaded, though her mouth remained closed.

Placing his fingers under her chin to keep her from turning away, he returned to the original topic of conversation. "Okay, but please, take the time you need to fully recover."

"Look, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. If he gives me a clean bill of health I'm coming back to work." She removed his hand from her face and gripped it. "Lab only until the stitches are out, deal?" She was temped to lay a soft kiss in the center of his bare palm and then draw it back to her face, but she fought the urge. Instead, she denied herself the comfort and placed it back on the steering wheel.

"Fine…!" He said petulantly. "But lab only and no God damn arguments." Then he reversed the car the rest of the way out of the spot and high-tailed it out of the parking garage.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. You guys are amazing betas.

This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

This chapter is a little longer - I will be posting another tomorrow..

Enjoy and thank you for all your reviews! You are spectacular!!!!

**Chapter 26**

The twenty minute drive from Sara's apartment to their destination was conducted in silence. With the young woman resting her head up against the window, and her supervisor stealing troubled glances at her. When he pulled into the parking lot Gil Grissom noted that her breath caught in her throat as she gawked at the monolith of twisted and metal off to the side.

"Uh… Gris…" She turned to him noting the look of awe, wonder, and extreme pleasure on his face. "I'd like to point out that this is very much your thing… not mine." She shook her head, already beginning to protest his intent.

"I know." He said plainly. "But I want to share it with you." There was so much hope in his eyes, as he steered the truck into the parking structure.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a walk near Lake Mead… Stargazing in the desert… I'd even settle for a tour of Lady Heather's domain…"

The entomologist's eyes narrowed at the mention of the last item listed.

Sara grinned, supremely embarrassed as memory of the day's revelations kicked in. "The last one was a joke…" It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to see the man beside her blush, but that's exactly what he did, right up to the tips of his ears.

His voice dropped and took on a sultry intonation. "Are you sure? I could probably arrange it, along with private use of the pool house…" He was giving back exactly what he was getting and her reaction mimicked his earlier one.

"Mmm… Sorry… I left my whips and chains at home…"

"I'm sure Heather has loaners…"

"Gil Grissom…"

"You started it!" He told her plainly, pulling into a parking spot near the casino entrance on the third floor.

Sara looked at him darkly, for a moment. "Okay, I give. You win." She told him softly, at the same time gazing out the window. "But that doesn't mean this is a happening thing…" She pointed to his planned destination.

"Come on, Sara, it's mind clearing and cathartic. It's like therapy on wheels." He stepped out of the Denali at that moment and moved around to her side.

"It's dangerous." She told him as she exited the vehicle.

"It isn't."

"May I remind you the last time we were near one; the two of us were picking up the pieces of five people and assorted mechanical rubble."

"It had been sabotaged. There has never been a serious accident on one of these things that wasn't caused by human stupidity."

Sara's eyebrows went up. "Human error, you mean."

"No I mean human stupidity. People standing up, unbuckling belts, getting on when they know they shouldn't…" He grabbed her hand and began to move her towards the entrance.

The tall brunette stopped. "I've never been on one…" She admitted, slightly uncomfortable.

"Never…?" He was more than a little surprised by this.

Sara shook her head. "Trips to the amusement park were not on the list of priorities when I was growing up."

"What about when you were older?"

"What, when I was in foster care…?" She offered, as if that in and of itself was explanation enough.

"University…?"

"Ah, no… Frat parties, dorm parties, toga parties, sex in unusual places…No amusement parks."

"Sex in unusual places…?" He repeated curiously.

Sara grinned self-consciously. "No roller coasters, though." She clarified.

There was an odd gleam in Grissom's eyes and Sara misinterpreted it. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm not the only strange one here. You dated a dominatrix, while I stuck to a run of the mill psychopathic sadistic serial rapist, with a penchant for murder."

Gil Grissom sobered. "Sara, don't..."

"It's true."

"You had no way of knowing."

"I was sleeping with him. I should have known…" Her hands were shaking when she brought them up to swipe at the damp corners of her eyes.

"Ted Bundy, Arhon Kee, Michael Ross. Everyone saw them as normal; they were charismatic, and brilliantly able to hide their crimes. That's why they got away with it for so long. Luke in particular, because of his training, was even more skilled at this. It is easy to look back and blame yourself, but none of us suspected." His thick hands reached out and enfolded hers. "And Sara, Heather and I never dated. We…"

"Stop… I don't want to hear this. It's really none of my business, and you shouldn't have to justify yourself to anyone, especially me, in particular after the earful you got today." Then she closed her eyes and sucked in a calming breath. "I'm sorry." She told him. "I'm stripped bare and my mind isn't censoring anything that is coming out of my mouth right now, otherwise I would never have brought her… it up again."

"You've done it three times in one day and never before today." His voice was placating and thoughtful. "Maybe you are drawing certain parallels between Luke and I. Perhaps it's my association with her that's bothering you?" He asked carefully avoiding the word relationship.

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "I don't even know the woman. We've never met, but on some level and very much based on my past experience, I think I correlate what she represents with pain and that's been on my mind a lot lately. I mean, I don't understand people's predilection for sadism or masochism." She looked at the metal beast looming closer. "I have spent the better part of my life avoiding hurt; I just don't get why someone would willingly invite it or inflict it. That's why I put an end to it so quickly. I know I keep asking this, but it's because I'm never sure if I'm just rambling on…" She grimaced noticeably. "Did any of what I just said make sense?"

"Yes…" He said slowly his head shifting to the side as he studied the confusion on her face. "You know it's not really about pain. Not if it's done properly. I've been told that it's supposed to be about eroticism, exploration and pleasure… " His voice was thick with sensuality, though his words were spoken with the guidance of a mentor.

Sara's eyes darkened perceptibly and she held up her hand. "Spare me the lesson." There was no animosity in her voice, simply disinterest.

He stared at her. A hunger to explain, pressed achingly at his insides, but he redirected his thoughts to something more palatable for the young woman beside him. "It's about trust, too. You know that. Do you think perhaps that's what all of this is about? Maybe you don't trust me, anymore?"

The young woman stopped and gazed at him a moment, she was clearly bothered by the prospect. "I trust you… with a lot of things, with my life even."

"But…?" She hadn't said it, but he'd heard it regardless. And it hurt.

"Tell you what, if we end this conversation here and now, I will go on that thing with you." She pointed to the twisted metal just visible outside the garage.

"That's not a fair trade." Grissom stopped and turned to face her fully, a subtle edge held within his voice. "Your answer is very important to me, and I'd like to hear it."

"What do you want me to say, Gris?" There was a heightened level of anguish behind her eyes. "I trust you, as much as I trust everyone else at this point. In many ways I trust you more, but right now. I don't trust anyone with certain things. Including you, I'm sorry." Her words were excruciatingly honest.

"What about your friend, Dennis?" There was the slow burn of jealousy sitting in his chest. He did his best to keep it from entering his voice.

There was the clincher. She knew that he would come into the conversation at some point. Sara's eyes dropped to her feet. "Dennis is different."

"In what way…?" His blue eyes took on a deep gray tinge.

"We have a history." She told him, mentally willing him to drop the subject.

"I thought we did as well…" He said simply.

"We do." She smiled tightly. "But he has a few more years on you."

"Then how come today was the first I've ever heard of him? An old friend… An old lover…" His hands were on his hips now, a silent demand for answers that he really had no right to, from a woman he had no claim to.

Sara shouldn't have been surprised. There were a lot of revelations that had been made during the course of the day that should have remained buried. She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the waist high ledge in front of the truck stared out at the front of the New York New York a moment. Dropping onto the polished metal of the front bumper she pulled him down beside her. "I've known Dennis since I was five. His mother, Charlene, was a single mom who worked as a do-all for my parents. She was originally hired as a maid, but she would pitch in wherever she was needed." Sara went to remove her hand from Grissom's, but his enclosed completely around hers. "She couldn't afford a place of her own, and still have enough to feed her and Denny, so they stayed in a small cottage on the property. It was a good size for just the two of them." She grinned at the memory. "We were best friends, even though he's two years older than me. Evan was scarce most of the time, so he was my surrogate big brother. Whenever things got really bad at home, I would go to him and his mom."

"It was good you had somewhere to go." His voice was soft as his thumb soothingly stroked the back of her hand.

The pretty brunette bobbed her head silently. "I was always afraid my dad would come after them, too, so I only went there when things were exceptionally bad."

Grissom found himself wondering what _exceptionally bad_ represented, but he didn't get the chance to ask.

"When we moved, Charlene didn't have a choice, she went back home to live in a tiny town in Texas with her parents. I lost my home and my best friend that day. Two and a half years later I lost my whole family." Her voice hitched slightly and dropped, taking on a deep visceral tone. "But Dennis and I have always kept in touch. Do you know that when I was attacked in foster care, he took the money that he had saved for this moped thing he'd wanted since forever, and flew his mom and himself out to be with me? He has been the one constant in my life. He was always there for me. That's why I trust him implicitly." She pumped his hand. "Aside from which, he has no claim to the parts of me that feel threatened right now, so there's really no risk involved in trusting him."

"But you were lovers."

Sara leveled her dark eyes at him. "It wasn't about sex, passion, or desire. It was all about comfort, caring, and friendship. His mother had just died." She tucked a wild curl behind her ear. "It was once only and at the time it was something that we both needed."

"I see…" Grissom uttered though the thickness of his voice betrayed the fact that he clearly didn't. A feeling of betrayal had invaded his senses, despite the fact that he had no right to feel anything other than caring and compassion where the woman in front of him was concerned.

Sara picked up the emotion in his voice immediately. "We all show our love in different ways, and we all find comfort in different things. For Dennis it was physical, a release of sorts, and the feeling that someone cared, after all he'd just lost the most important person in his life." She waited a heartbeat. "You show your love for the people around you by risking the one thing that means the most to you. I mean, how many times have you jeopardized your career and reputation for Catherine, Warrick, or anyone else in our group?"

Grissom simply stared at her.

Anxiously, she pulled her hand from his and stood up. "It was about friendship, that's all." She reiterated.

"You and Nick certainly have a different outlook on friendship than I do." He ran his hand through his thick salt and pepper curls and stared up at her.

She shook her head in surprise and smiled slightly. "You were discussing friendship with Nick?" This was something she would have liked to have heard.

"Yes, just this morning, actually…" Gil Grissom drew himself to his feet and moved towards her. He wasn't sure that he should be telling Sara about their earlier conversation, but something inside of him needed to hear what her answer to Nick's proposal would have been. "He saw the pregnancy test and suggested that if it were positive maybe he would ask you to marry him."

Shock registered thoroughly on the tall brunette's face and her hand went immediately to her mouth. "What?" The word was uttered as a half choke, half laugh.

"I asked him if he was in love with you. He said he loved you as a friend and that was an excellent foundation for a marriage. His parents have been married for forty-some-odd-years and apparently that started out as a friendship." Grissom shoved both hands into his pockets and stared at her awkwardly.

"Nick will make an amazing husband and father someday. It's that stable Texas upbringing." The surprise in Sara's voice was still evident, as she wrapped her arms around herself and allowed her eyes wander out over the strip. "I sincerely hope that he finds a smart and beautiful woman who loves him wholeheartedly, because he truly deserves it, but I'm not that woman." Her words hung in the air between them.

"You're smart and beautiful."

Ignoring his compliment, she looked at him pointedly. "We would destroy each other. We're so very different. While I do believe friendship is a solids basis for a marriage, there are so many other elements. Passion, desire, love, trust, respect … That's why I've turned Denny down every time he's asked me. I just don't feel that way about him. I mean the romantic love, passion, desire thing…" She clarified and then turned away her eyes avoiding Grissom's steady gaze.

"How many times has he asked you?" He asked around the solid lump in his throat.

"Enough." A thin smile lit her face.

Grissom appeared to accept this answer with little concern, while inside a dull ache had begun in the pit of his belly. Despite what she said, Maitland was a man who could make good on his threat to take Sara back to San Francisco.

"I know that they say - in a lot of arranged marriages, all of that comes later, but what if it doesn't? Then you are left with resentment. I couldn't do that to myself, or anyone else for that matter. _If_ I ever commit myself to a person it will be because I love them completely and want to spend the rest of my life with them." She grinned at him sadly, and then studied the twisted piece of metal up ahead, a small light suddenly going on in her head. "Gris, that thing has not gone around once since we got here." In fact the entire place seemed pretty deserted. There had been one or two people when they arrived, most of them drifting out towards their cars and a few employees wandered past in and out of the casino every now and then, but the rollercoaster, though lit up, was unmoving.

Relieved, he digested her comments and then verbally responded to her last remark. "I know." He pulled his cell and hit speed dial. "Hey Woody, its Gil… yeah… okay…" He flipped the phone closed and smiled at the woman in front of him. "Five minutes…"

Both brows went up and Sara shook her head slowly. "Please tell me you do not have the ride operator on speed dial." She commented a laugh apparent in her voice.

Grissom simply smirked at her.

"Oh my god…" She giggled wholeheartedly, and then sobered quickly. "Can I ask you something?" Her voice dipping to a throaty whisper, the query in it was uncertain.

"Sure." He gripped her arm and directed her towards the doors that would lead them out of the garage and into the casino proper.

"Haven't you ever just desperately needed someone? You know like after a shift that has kicked the shit right out of you? Haven't you ever just wanted to be held, and comforted by someone who would make it go away? Make it better some how…?"

For some reason Sara's question knocked the air out of his lungs. Her words brought an acute sense of loneliness to the forefront of his mind. She was reaching out asking him to share, and after she had already born so much, he didn't have the heart not to answer her. "Yeah, I do." He answered honestly. His hand moved from her arm to her hand, his thick fingers lacing themselves between hers.

She studied him silently for a moment, the warmth of his touch seeping through her. "What do you do, when that happens? Do you call Cath and go for dinner? Call Brass and share a drink?"

He beamed at her and tugged her towards the walkway that would lead them to the ride. "I hop on a rollercoaster and I deal with it."

Sara pursed her lips, her dark eyes absorbing the pained expression on his face. "I'm not sure about the rollercoaster part, but I can tell you that at some point the dealing with it, especially when you are alone, it becomes impossible to do." A haunted look spread across her pale features. "That's how I ended up with Luke." She was deeply bothered by this revelation, but she grinned, anyway. "I guess… I hope you're better at it all, than I am."

"I probably am - more practice." He agreed, squeezing her hand.

"You know, humans are inherently social animals. We aren't meant to live a solitary existence."

Grissom nodded. "Which is why the next time you feel alone, you're going to call me right? So we can talk it out." Before he could stop himself he'd moved her hand to his mouth, and planted a soft kiss on the back of it.

Shocked and surprised Sara brought her dark orbs to bear on him, and reveled in the emotions that washed over her at the touch of his lips. "I will if you will…" She lifted her eyebrows, doubting that he would agree to her request. "Deal...?"

He bobbed his head silently, and then watched as her face transformed from one of worry into one of astonishment and amusement.

"Uh Gris…? Rollercoaster wacko at 12 o'clock..." She said softly.

He turned and waved at the old mechanic. "Hey Woody..." The white haired man was busy winding his way through the almost abandoned slot machines and toward them.

"You're kidding me right." Sara whispered in his ear, and plastered a smile on her face for the approaching engineer. "His last roller coaster killed five people."

"It'll be fine…" Grissom watched as the man stopped at a small room in the corner.

"Gris…" Her murmur was panicked. "What makes you think the same thing that happened on the Pharaoh's Fever, won't happen again."

"Firstly, Zack Lawrence is in jail and secondly, that's why Woody changed jobs. He says he has more help here and he has more time to check the ride out." Grissom held up two fingers. "Twice daily…"

Sara rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on her boss' hand as the older man approached them holding out two bags of popcorn. "We're going to die." She whispered.

"Mr. Grissom." The jump-suited engineer sauntered over and held out the popcorn to them.

Sara's hand went out, and she waved off the offer despite the fact that her stomach grumbled at the thick buttery scent. "Thanks, but my stomach's been a little out of sorts lately." She told the older man.

Gil Grissom had no such compunction, in his eyes popcorn and rollercoasters went hand and hand. "Thanks Woody, we'll share." He said pouring a few from the bag into his mouth, while an equal amount bounced off the front of his shirt and onto the carpet at his feet.

"I'm gonna do a test run first and then yer up." He indicated the way to the ride, and waddled off and around the corner he'd come from.

Sara stared at Grissom wide-eyed. "How can you eat at a time like this?"

"If we're going to expire it might as well be on a full stomach." He mumbled teasingly around a mouthful of the salty snack.

Her face paled.

He gulped down the remains in his mouth and squeezed her hand. "I'm just joking, Sara, relax." His blue eyes caught hers and he realized she was genuinely scared. His disposition took on a somber edge. "Everything will be okay. I ride the Manhattan Express all the time and I'm still here."

She was going to point out that that fact didn't hold any guarantees for the future, but she pushed the thought aside. Instead, her free hand came up and she caressed the corner of his mouth with one soft finger.

Grissom's breath froze in his throat, and he was sure his heart had skipped several beats and then made up for it by strumming in double time.

She wanted to plant a soft kiss where her hand had been, but the urge was squelched instinctively by her subconscious and when she pulled it away, she held her finger up. On the end of it was a piece of popcorn. "It's hard to take you seriously when you have food stuck to your face, _Doctor Grissom_." Laughter was reflected in her voice, but there was still fear in her eyes.

"We're ready…" Woody's voice boomed from around the corner. Moving across the casino floor they followed the path the older man had taken. In the booth to the right a half asleep cashier sat reading a book; she looked up at them and nodded as they wandered by. A moment later they were standing at the entrance to the maze of railings that led to the coaster. Grissom surpassed the network in favor of taking the speed pass entrance to the loading platform.

Sara's eyes immediately flew to the empty series of cars sitting on the track; a second later it pulled away and headed for the first drop in relative silence.

"We're going to die." She announced for the second time as Grissom, still gripping her other hand, moved them towards the ramp.

"We'll be fine." He countered steadily, his wildly beating heart finally returning to normal. Placing his popcorn on the ride's control panel, the graying entomologist moved them up to the gate where another set of cars sat. He moved to the very front and stopped beside the waiting train, nodding towards it he let go of her. "You first..." He was about to nudge her onto the ride when he noticed that she was visibly trembling. "Hey…" He cast a glance in Woody's direction.

The man was hunched over the control board and busy directing the test car off onto a relay track, where it came to a screeching halt.

Grissom placed both hands on either side of Sara's face and pulled her in to him, his warm lips placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

It was like heaven and hell all at once, when he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You don't have to do this…"

His voice in her ear was tempered with disappointment, despite the fact that he tried to hide it. The warmth of his breath on her skin was a lover's caress, and brought with it the spontaneous growth of goose bumps.

"But if you do, I promise nothing will happen to you." He held her against him, part of him wanting never to let her go. Through the thin shirt he wore he could feel her heart beating wildly and wondered idly if it was brought on by fear, or the sheer proximity of their two bodies.

Sara closed her eyes against his chest and absorbed the moment, casually collecting the sensation of his arms around her and storing the memory for later use. Then she shook her head. Fear was never something she was comfortable with. In her eyes it was a wasted emotion. She had always believed that in order to conquer it, you had to face it head on, despite the possible outcome. Gathering up her courage, she stepped away from the man holding her and cast a glance at the ride operator. "Let's do this. I need a good scream."

A wide smile spread across Gil Grissom's face. This was the Sara he was used to. Fearless… He waited as she stepped into the car and helped her pull the restraint down over her head, before taking a seat himself and engaging his own safety device.

"How many times…?" Woody asked, yanking up on both restraints to see that they were locked into place.

"Just once to start…" Grissom yelled over the grind of the wheels against steel, as the car began to move.

Beside him Sara's face had gone sheet white and her fingers were clasped in a death grip around the slim metal handles of the safety restraint. Prying one had free he took it in his before offering her some advice as the ascended the first hill. "Bear down Sara; it'll keep your stomach in place." He yelled above the roar of the ride and the ear piercing shriek that was ripped from her as they hit the top, teetered and then dropped into the night.

They rode the Manhattan Express six times in total, the last time at Sara's insistence. When they finally stopped, both were shaking in exhilaration, and Woody was laughing maniacally.

"You…" He pointed to the young woman being helped out of the car. "You surely have woken up every hotel guest for miles around." He clapped Grissom on the back. "This little lady has a set of lungs on her…"

Sara smiled and croaked a genuine "Thank you," at the man. She was certain she had lost her voice from the whole ordeal.

Grissom simply nodded in agreement. "I think I'm deaf." He chortled, and slipped his fingers through hers. Then reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he pulled out a small envelope. "Thanks Woody…" He passed the older man the gift and dragged Sara down the ramp, his fist snatching the waiting bag of popcorn as they passed by it.

"Feeling better?" He ventured as they made their way the short distance back towards the car.

She stopped and impulsively threw her arms around him, nearly knocking the bag from his hand in the process. "Thank you, too. I needed that." She beamed at him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

It would have been so easy for him to turn his face to the side and draw her into a passionate and possessive kiss. It was what his heart wanted, and in his mind-eye he did, willingly losing all sensibility to the pull of his emotions. But Catherine's earlier words skittered through his conscience and dropped-kicked him back to reality. Instead, he squeezed her to him, careful of her bruises, and placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He now knew what he wanted, but he was also well aware that the woman in his arms needed time to heal. Bending into her, he placed his mouth next to her ear. "Next time we'll do the Desperado in Primm."

She laughed at that and pulled away, but he couldn't let her go completely. One arm came up and he draped it over her shoulder, surprising the two of them.

"Have some." He offered her the popcorn and watched as she sunk her fist into the bag, and popped a few kernels into her mouth.

'Mmmm…" She licked her lips and grinned. "It needs a little more salt…" Sara informed him hoarsely, as they moved at a leisurely pace towards the garage.

"So you like rollercoasters?"

"They're a rush." She nodded. Her voice dropped and took on a lush quality. "I do see what you like about them. The sensation has the ability to wipe any formed thought from your mind." They'd reached the parking area so she pulled away and quickly crossed the minimal distance to the truck.

The absence of the other's touch was not lost on either of them and left both feeling a little cold as Grissom fumbled in his pocket for the keys.

Holding the keyless entry in his hands, and the older man stared at the tall, lanky figure in front of him. There was a question in her eyes when she turned around to see what was taking him so long.

Uncertainly, Sara met his gaze and waited silently for him to verbalize whatever it was that had hijacked his thoughts.

It was now or never, Grissom reckoned. Throughout the day, since the rather one sided conversation with Dennis Maitland, he had been contemplating the suggestion the younger man had thrown at him. Never one to bend to threats, he wouldn't have even considered the offer if it was something that he didn't want to do. However, the fact that it had been lolling about, somewhere on the fringes of his consciousness, told him that it was something that he did want. Getting Sara to agree might be tantamount to wrestling an aggravated alligator with chunks of meat attached to your arms. Realizing that he was staring at her stupidly, he cleared his throat and tensely thumbed the remote in his hand. "Can I ask you something?" His words were slightly tremulous under the weight of his nerves.

Two dark orbs scrutinized him silently, before their owner slumped against the door of the Denali. The metal was solid behind Sara's back and she could feel its chill through the thin fleece of her sweater. Pursing her lips, she then shook her head minutely. "No…" The word was soft and uttered with a measure of dread.

It wasn't quite the answer he had been hoping for. "Can I ask why?"

"That's a question…" Sara pointed out, her hands immediately wrapping around herself.

It was a defensive posture. Grissom had realized this some time ago. She did it whenever some element of her life seemed threatened. The relaxed atmosphere that had been fostered by the ride slipped away, and was replaced by an air of tension.

"O-kay…" He ran his thick fingers through his tousled graying hair. "You don't want me to ask you a question because…" He smiled. "Not a question, just a statement so you can just fill in the blanks."

Sara rolled her eyes, moderately amused. "Alright… I'll play." She diverted her stare to the florescent lines dividing the parking spots in front of her. "Because, I've answered my share of questions today and the ones that you've asked me, in particular, have confounded me and caused me no small amount pain."

Her words stung, and this was reflected in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you…"

She held her hand up. "I know, but _you_ _need_ _to know_ that, while I realize introducing you and everyone else to my many skeletons is, in some way, salutary, it isn't done painlessly."

Grissom remained silent absorbing her words, and wishing – not for the first time since the entire nightmare began – that there was something, anything he could do to make it all go away. He took a step closer to her and gripped both of her hands, her cool lean fingers non-committal while clenched within his own large fists. "This question should be painless… promise."

Sara nodded, her senses heightened by the warmth of his proximity. "Okay." Resignation was woven through her words. "Shoot."

Suddenly shy, Gil Grissom dropped his head slightly, but forced himself to look at the woman in front of him and shrugged. "I just wanted to know if you would let me accompany you to your friend's wedding on Saturday?"

The young CSI's mouth dropped and a choked, "What?" popped out.

A flicker of hurt passed across, Grissom's hopeful face.

"I mean…" Completely stunned, Sara found herself fumbling for words. "They're my friends and all, but even I don't want to go to this wedding. If it wasn't for the fact that it's here and Gina is a close friend, I probably would have begged off. Why would you want to subject yourself to spending eight hours with a bunch of people who have the potential to be even stranger than I am?" She shook her head, intending to go on, but she was stopped by two strong hands on either side of her face.

"I want to go because you'll be there. It has nothing to do with your friends, although I would like to meet them." His touch was tentative and soothing as his thumbs traced delicate circles on the soft skin of her cheeks.

Sara was lulled briefly by the contact, her mind sorting through the mess in her head. She removed his hands from her face in an endeavor to make it easier for her to think and say what was on her mind. "If this…" She gripped his wrists tightly before releasing them. "If you want to do this out of some misplaced sense of guilt, or responsibility, don't. I'm not the same addled girl you knew back in San Francisco. I'm a grown woman, and I'm the one who's made all of the choices I did, no one else. I knew what I was doing. You hold no blame in what's transpired recently."

The look on her face was so haunted and her words so brutally accepting that Grissom found himself closing his eyes against their reality. "Are you sure of that, Sara?"

He held up his hand as she went to speak. When he was sure she would wait, he let his hand fall back onto her shoulder his fingers absently toying with the nest of ringlets that sat there. Consuming the uncertainty that was sitting in his chest he decided to tell her what had been in his head for far too long. "What if…" He stopped for a moment confounded by the words struggling to get out. "What if… I hadn't been so stupid."

She went to speak, so he placed a shaking hand over her mouth. "What if I had done what I wanted to do since I first brought you here? What if I had told you how I felt about you long before it got to this point?"

She shook her head and tried to say something, but his hand stayed firmly in place. "I do bear some of the blame. And you can't say that I don't."

She pulled his hand away from her dry lips and trapped it between her own. "I can't live my life on what ifs… and you can't either." She drew the palm of his hand to her mouth and kissed it, before placing it over her heart. His were the hands of a scientist. Large and curious and always in motion, yet gentle enough to handle the most delicate of things. For the longest time she had imagined, and desired the feel of them on her flesh, but right now it just hurt, along with all of the regret he was divulging. She needed to redirect the conversation before they moved to things that wouldn't be so easily forgotten or retracted. "You don't have to come with me. I really don't need a baby-sitter. My friends are a little crazy, and occasionally immature, but they do care, and I trust them to get me home in one piece. You don't need to worry, really."

"Sara…" A growl of frustration clawed its way out his mouth. "I want to take you. It has nothing to do with anything, other than the fact that I want to be there, okay?"

She nodded silently; her thoughts hijacked by a rush of emotions each one more confusing than the next. "Okay…" She threw a tight grin at him, a million unspoken questions floating between them.

"I wanted to stop you." He told her his words cracking from the weight of the memory. "I saw you with, with him. And I wanted to stop you and tell you that I…"

It was Sara's turn this time. A slim hand clamped coolly over his mouth. "Don't." She blinked trying to keep the fear she was feeling from surfacing in her eyes. "I can't do this. Not now… Please? I just need a little time. We'll talk. God I have to talk to everyone." Her chest felt heavy with dread. "When everything is settled and I've been able to pick through all the wreckage. We'll talk." She assured him. "For now… let's just leave it, that you get to spend your Saturday with me and some very demented people that I am sometimes afraid to call my friends. Deal…?"

There was so much that he wanted to say now that he'd gathered the courage, but at the same time he realized how extremely overwhelming everything must be to the woman in front of him. He nodded slowly. "Deal…"

Placing his hands on either side of her he used the cool metal of the truck for support as he leaned in.

For a second panic set in, as Sara thought that he might kiss her on the mouth. She steeled herself, and then quickly relaxed as his warm soft lips came to rest tentatively against her cheek. His proximity setting off another slew of emotions that ran from cold hard fear to the hopelessly entangled pain crossed with pleasure that she always associated with being in love with Gil Grissom.

_Oh God, Sidle, you are so messed up…_ She told herself, her brain absently noting that the door lock had been popped.

"You have as much time as you need. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered into her ear, and then pushing himself away from her, he waited as she stepped aside so he could open the door. As soon as she was settled he made his way around to the other side and hopped in. Once behind the wheel he stopped his deep azure eyes settling intently on her.

"What?" She asked him guardedly, when she couldn't take the silence or the heat from his gaze any longer.

"I was just wondering what I should wear to your friend's wedding…"

She fixed her chocolate orbs on him for a moment and shook her head sadly. "Yeah… Um… she asked that all of the guys wear baby blue tuxes with black cumber buns and frilly white shirts. You know – seventies style." She pursed her lips. "This is Vegas after all…" The slender brunette said by way of explanation.

Gil Grissom simply gaped at her, horror plastered all over his face.

Sara let him chew on this for a few minutes as he started the truck and backed out of the parking lot, a profoundly disturbed look distorting his normally placid façade. Smirking devilishly she kept her focus trained on the wall of the garage as they coiled their way out, and forced back the flood of giggles bubbling up inside her. He'd made it as far as the exit to the parking lot before she couldn't hold it anymore and let out a loud snort, followed by an uncontrollable laughing fit. The visual of a normally dignified Doctor Gilbert Grissom dressed like something out of a "That Seventies Show" prom night was almost too much to take.

"I take it my court suit will do?" He asked grinning at her, just glad he could bring a smile to her face.

"Well…" She sniggered and threw a hand up over her mouth. "Unless you'd like me to rent you that baby blue tux when I'm out shopping tomorrow?"

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** see chapter one.

Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. Your patience with the length of this story is exceptional. This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M.

I am hoping to update again within the next day or so - so it shouldn't be too long a wait.

Enjoy and thank you for all your reviews! You are spectacular, amazing and fabulous...

**Chapter 26**

_**Sara's apartment**_

_**Aug 24, 3:00 am**_

They'd arrived home in record time. Despite the fact that Las Vegas was the city that never slept traffic after 2 am was virtually non-existent off the strip.

Grissom had dropped his jeans and sat on the sofa bed clad in only his glow-in-the-dark bug boxers and a matching black t-shirt. He was in dire need of rest, as the day had afforded him some truths that had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He'd been operating on autopilot wading his way through the events and revelations that had assaulted him unexpectedly. It was his way of dealing with his own pain caused by the violation and attempted ruination of the woman he could only now admit to loving. Some of the pictures her words had forced on him, were horrific, yet he was amazed that she could still smile. It was the face of a survivor he saw when he looked at her. And it was this fact that caused the almost intolerable ache in his chest. In order to be a survivor, she first had to be a victim.

He hadn't been asleep when she'd tried to sneak off. He'd been doing much the same thing she had, truth be told he'd been grateful for the chance to get out and chase away some of his anxiety. Reaching over to the side table he picked up the photo Warrick had left, his finger reverently outlining the little girl that Sara used to be. To his dying day he would never understand what would drive a person to steal the innocence of a child.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he noticed the dim light of her room was still casting a tell tale line of illumination from under her door.

Drawing himself to his feet, he moved over there and placed his head up against the cool wood separating the two of them. Inside he could hear muffled sobbing. "Sara…" He knocked lightly.

There was silence for a moment.

"Sara… Can I come in?" His voice was steady and calm and betrayed none of the pain the sound of her weeping was causing him. He needed to be strong in the shadow of her weakness. There would be time for him to hunt his own demons when this was all over.

"Sure…" It sounded resigned even from the other side of the door.

He opened the door to find her prone on the bed, her head buried in a damp pillow, and sporting a pair of navy pajama shorts and a matching long sleeve shirt with mathematical equations scrawled all over them. He couldn't help but grin despite the gravity of the situation. Crossing the room, he dropped onto the mattress. His hand immediately going to the chaos of curls covering what was visible of her face. He drew her hair back to reveal one dark and red rimmed eye. "Come on…" He leaned back up against the headboard and drew her into his arms, his chest heavy under the weight of her tears… His mouth dropped to the silky locks top of her head, and he whispered soothingly to her until her crying had stopped.

Stroking the heat of one moist cheek he nudged her chin up so he could take a look at her. "Guess the rollercoaster didn't help as much as I'd hoped…" He said softly.

Sara smiled sadly. "It did…. Really… I'm just… I don't know. I can't seem to stop crying." She shook her head slightly as if angered by the revelation.

"It's to be expected… You've been through a lot, sweetheart." Using the one hand wrapped around her shoulder, he stroked her back softly, careful not to press too hard on the bruised area. The other hand he rested on the long slim arm that she'd thrown across his waist.

"Gris?" She looked up at him uncertainly.

"Mmmhmn…" Blue eyes met brown as he stared down at her, concern etched on his face.

"Can you just stay? Please?" She swallowed heavily, and then rushed on trying to explain. "It just helps to have someone here. It doesn't have to mean anything…" She told him plaintively.

_What if I want it to mean something? _His subconscious asked, but not wanting to add to her emotional disarray he didn't verbalize it. Instead, he placed his lips on her forehead and nodded. "Absolutely..." He uttered tenderly, slid down fully onto the bed, and waited while she curled up against him. Then reaching around the infernal bouquet that still stood there, he turned off the light and wrapped Sara in his arms.

The room was silent for a moment while the two people adjusted to each other's presence. It was Sara's voice that broke the quiet first.

"Gris, why are the bugs on your boxers glowing?" She snickered softly.

"Hey, hands off my bugs, Sidle…" There was humor etched in his voice. "…or I'll make you do all the equations on your own pajamas…" He grinned in the dark.

Against his chest, he could feel the slight quake brought on by Sara's own lush giggle.

**David's Bridal**

**2600 W. Sahara Ave #109  
Henderson**

**2:15 pm **

Grissom had left at nine that morning when Catherine showed up coffees and pastries in hand. He said that he desperately needed to shower, change, and probably walk whatever life forms had grown in his fridge four days he'd been absent from home.

Sara was pretty certain that at least part of the day at his townhouse would include several hours more of sleep, but she'd reminded him to hit the sack in case he got some crazy idea about sticking his head in some case file.

She'd given him a quick hug and a soft kiss on the cheek when Catherine stepped into the bathroom, and had whispered a hurried _thank you for everything_, as she untangled herself from him and the embrace he'd surprisingly returned.

They'd left it, that he would call during the day and see how her doctor's appointment went. And on the way out he'd insisted that they meet for dinner that evening, though the when and where of it had been left open. Catherine had invited herself along since the parent who had picked Lindsay up that morning had asked the younger Willows to stay for the night, and her present boyfriend, had made other vague plans for which he had truly yet to explain.

Grissom's final words to Catherine had run somewhere along the lines of, _take care of her _and_ be nice_, though at the moment the latter of the two requests was getting steadily more difficult to do.

They had been to four stores and at this point Catherine was agitated, and Sara was feeling seriously pressed for time. She had two more hours left before she had to be sitting in her doctor's office. She could easily reschedule the appointment if necessary, but that would mean being off work until Monday, a prospect she was unwilling to entertain.

Catherine had come away from the last two shops with several new dresses, stating the need to update her wardrobe as a reason for the shopping spree she was indulging in. Sara could tell that she was doing her best not to pressure her into any purchases, but she also gathered an air of frustration that had set in as they left the last store. It was this emotion that was speaking as she held up a gorgeous butter colored dress. It was for all intents and purposes, perfect. Both form fitting and elegant it looked a lot like a double sided halter which gathered at the top into a thin collar, and was embroidered with delicate pastel colored flowers. It was sleeveless and in Catherine's opinion showed off one of Sara's best features, her shoulders and long slim arms. The top half of the dress ended at the ribcage and was connected to the matching full length skirt by a seamless panel of pale yellow see-through nylon. Sara's midsection would be exposed to just below the navel. As far as dresses went, it was sexy, without being as incredibly revealing as some of the other gowns the young woman had shot down.

"This would look amazing on you. And I am not taking no for an answer." She passed the dress to the tall brunette, and shoved her towards the dressing rooms. "And this time Sara, you can't nix it without letting me first see it on you."

Sara turned and shook her head. "Catherine. I can't."

"Why? Sara, it's beautiful, it's elegant, it's not revealing, and it's the right color." Pale yellow dresses had been hard to come by. The bright yellow ones, though numerous, had been simply garish.

Sara stared at her shoes a moment before bringing her eyes back up to meet Catherine's. She hadn't wanted to tell her that she did actually like the other dresses they had chosen together, and under normal circumstances any of them would have been a great choice. But these days, circumstances were far from normal, and Sara had some very telling bruises to confirm this fact. An embarrassed grin crossed her face. She had used up all the excuses available to her, so now was the time for some honesty. "It's  
sleeveless, and my midsection is exposed."

The blonde woman's mouth dropped. "Well surely you weren't planning  
on wearing sleeves in 100 degree weather..."

This had been the problem all along. In the dead of summer Sara had been hoping to find something that had sleeves. Not likely in a town that hit 130 in the shade during the summer months.

"Well, we'll be indoors most of the time. In an air conditioned environment. Only the pictures, which she is having taken in some hotel garden, will be outdoors."

"Sara... seriously… The dress is stunning. I'm not letting you wear sleeves at the height of summer, and you have a perfect body, so the midsection thing is sexy without being sleazy."

"Cath..."

"Sara, would you go in put the damn dress on. I want to see it on you. No more excuses, otherwise I'll drag you in there and dress you myself."

The slim brunette rolled her eyes, and stepped into the dressing room. Arguing, at this point would do absolutely no good. It took her a few moments to change and then she was staring back at herself in the mirror. Catherine was right. The dress was beautiful and it fit her flawlessly. It didn't have the lace and frilliness of most wedding style dresses, it didn't bunch at all. It was stunningly tailored, looked like it had been designed specifically for her, but it was also something that she couldn't wear.

"Are you done in there?" Catherine was not letting this go, she was determined to see this gown on the younger CSI, even if it was the last thing she did.

"Cath. it's beautiful, but I can't."

"Why the hell not…?"

Sara opened the door and poked her head out.

Catherine stood there in front of her, her hands on her hips, the typical Willows no-nonsense façade was plastered on her face.

"I have bruises."

"Do you have the dress on?"

"Yes…"

"Then get your ass out here."

"Cath…"

"Out! Now!" She pushed the door open and waited for the young woman to emerge.

The dress was spectacular on her. Catherine smiled as Sara exited the small cubicle self consciously. It was then that she noticed the bruises on her arms. "My god, Sara…"

"I told you." Sara avoided the older woman's stare hoping that she would drop the issue and allow her to retreat back into the change room.

No such luck.

Instead Catherine Willows grabbed the younger woman by the forearm  
and moved her fully out into the common area. "These aren't from the accident..." She leveled her gaze at Sara and waited for a response.

Sara's answer was simply a shake of her head.

"Who did this to you?"

"Do we really have to discuss it? I'm honestly not in the mood Cath. Sufficed to say, this is the reason I can't wear this dress or anything else that's sleeveless." She turned, exposing the bruising along her back. "Or anything backless, or anything that bares my midriff…" The last words caught in her throat and came out sounding like a sob.

Catherine let out a gasp, at the unsightly marks decorating the slim brunettes back. "I repeat. Who did this to you?" Anger tinged her voice.

Shaking her head again Sara turned and eyed the older woman, she was trying to decide how much to reveal, when Catherine threw the name out.

"Was it Luke?" It had to be. In her mind's eye the blonde recognized the signs immediately. "These are hand prints..." She ran a speculative finger along the inside of Sara's left arm. Eddie and she had had enough altercations in the past that she was more than familiar with the pattern of bruising.

"Yes..."

"When and why?" Catherine's hands were clenched.

Sara's eyes had begun to tear, and she fought them back with a stiff smile. "I ended it the morning he was shot. This was a little payback..."

"Oh god, Sara..." She wanted to take the younger woman into her arms and hug her, but instead she simply squeezed her arm slightly and then stepped away. "Does Gil know?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? He's not my keeper." Frustration edged her voice, but she didn't allow the emotion to slip beyond her words.

Ever the investigator Catherine's well-manicured eyebrow shot up. "So someone else knows about this?"

"Yes..." Sara shook her head. That was wrong. "Well no. Nick asked me about something else. He never saw the bruises, and please don't tell him. He's already gone all big brother on me." She thought about that statement, and changed the wording in her head in relation to the conversation she and Grissom had had the night before. _He's already gone all weird on me..._

"Nick cares. We all do." She looked Sara in the eye as if trying to determine something. "You said he asked you about something else. What? Clearly there's more to the story. What's the _something else_?"

There it was. The younger CSI knew that it wouldn't be easy to gloss over her explanation to the woman in front of her. "You're right. There's more, but you'll have to wait for the rest. I already promised Nick, I would tell him everything when I'm ready. I would like to tell you and the others, too. I want to do it at the same time, and in answer to your original question. Unfortunately, yes... Grissom knows everything."

The blonde woman seemed satisfied with the answer, and nodded. "Okay then. This is the dress. It is beautiful on you, so you're buying it." She made a mental note to get the details from both Grissom and Nick when she had the chance.

Sara held her arms out.

"Body makeup will take care of it. I used to use it all the time when I danced. Eddie and I used to get into it something fierce. I don't know how many times I showed up at work with bruises. Hard to hide when you take your clothes off for a living. It's amazing stuff; it's water proof, smudge proof, sweat proof, you name it. It goes on like paint and doesn't rub off on clothes."

Sara's brows knitted together. "I'm not great with makeup."

"You have it applied professionally. I've made an appointment for you at 8:30am tomorrow. Hair, makeup, fingernails and toes… I'll call them and arrange for the body paint, too. It's a block from work." Catherine smiled at her own ingenuity, and turned Sara around. "Take it off, we still need to get you shoes and proper undergarments…"

The blonde woman was enjoying this whole thing way too much, Sara surmised as she slipped back into the change room.

_**TBC**_


	28. Chapter 28

**_Disclaimer:_**_ see chapter one._

_Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. Your patience with the length of this story is exceptional. This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M._

_Enjoy and thank you for all your reviews! You are spectacular, amazing and fabulous...And you make me want to write more!_

**_LV_****_ Crime lab_**

**_August 25th_**

**_8 am_**

It had been a brutal 8 hours. Not that Sara was willing to admit that to anyone for fear of hearing an _I told you so_ from a certain entomologist. After her shopping trip the previous day she'd headed to the doctor's office and came away with written permission to go back to work.

True to his word Grissom had grounded her to the lab and no amount of pouting or arguing would change his mind. So she'd found herself for the better part of the night working in the layout room. Throughout the shift she'd sorted through all manner of items trying to make heads or tails of a hit and run. Once she'd finished processing all of the detritus from the scene she'd moved on to some sheets that Nick had brought in from his assignment. She was just hunkering down to read the file when Grissom had come flying in and taken it from her hands.

"I need your help on a bug regression." He'd told her as he literally dragged her from the room to spend a few hours in his office helping with the regression. Strangely enough it was a trip to the break room, to retrieve some fresh coffee for the two of them that had been her undoing.

"Sorry about your case Nick." She told the sullen man as he took a liberal gulp from his own cup. "Gris said he needed me to help with a regression." She tugged two mugs from the cupboard and dropped them on the counter before grabbing the half full coffee pot.

"Yeah…" He looked away and sucked back the remains of his coffee. "It's okay. I just don't know why he got all freaky deaky bug dude on me for letting you handle the trace on a simple rape case." He turned to face her, his dark eyes studying the pained expression that had crossed her face.

She shook her head and fought back the tears beginning to cloud her eyes. "There's nothing simple about rape, Nick." She told him leaving the break room hastily, the two full cups completely forgotten.

It had taken her twenty minutes in the ladies room to calm down enough and hide the evidence of her earlier meltdown. By the time she made it back to Grissom's office without coffee in hand, he'd already had a full rundown from Nick and was looking extremely worried.

"I'm fine." She held her hand up anticipating his next words. "I just… It was a little to close for comfort right now. Thank you for this." She pointed to the board with the bugs. He hadn't really needed her help, and after Nick's revelation she had put two and two together. Determining that's Grissom's desperate need for an assistant was little more than a decoy. "Just please tell me that this is from a real case and we didn't waste 3 hours making notes for nothing."

Normally she would be pissed as hell. In fact she should be pissed as hell, but emotionally she just didn't have it in her. Grissom's words from the previous day flitted through her head. _It wouldn't hurt to let someone care for you once in a while. _It occurred to her that she needed that at the moment and this was his way of doing that.

He grinned softly at her and nodded covering the distance between them. "Duhamel from day's pulled a nasty body dump in the desert. He did the collection with Catherine's instruction at around 4pm. They were waiting for me when I arrived." He used his chin to indicate a few collection jars set off to the side of his shelving unit. "Between the two of them they didn't do too badly, but we did lose a few of the specimens." He placed a hand carefully in the small of her back. "The basic set up I could handle, but it helps to have someone to document my ramblings. It makes things go faster. Now that this is done I have the day free, so we can go to your friend's wedding."

She nudged him slightly and smiled softly. They hadn't actually done dinner despite their plans. Grissom had, of course, been called in, so the two women had settled for some homemade vegetable soup that Catherine had brought over and tuna sandwiches created by the younger woman. It wasn't _Lutece _at the Venetianbut Sara had managed to keep every bite of it down.

The conversation had been light, filled with gossipy mostly political office stuff and they had ridden in together because Sara's personal vehicle was still sitting in the parking lot.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here and play with your bugs. It might be more fun…" Sara had crossed her arms in front of her and didn't move her eyes from the board. She wanted to at least give him an out.

A moment of self doubt slipped over him and he stared at her out of the corner of his eye. Maybe she genuinely didn't want him there. Swallowing around the lump in his throat he ran an affectionate palm up her back and let it rest on her shoulder. It took him a second to formulate the correct words. "Sara, if you don't want me there, then that's fine. I want you to tell me, but you should know that I do want to take you." He pointed to a dark bag hanging from a hook in the corner of the room. "I brought my suit and my shower stuff. I'll hang around here until we have to head over to the chapel."

"Is it baby blue?" The slender brunette turned to look at him and smirked.

"Ah… No… Thank god. I think I might get arrested for wearing something that outdated." He muttered.

Sara giggled. "I never pegged you for a fashion aficionado."

He looked down at himself. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a matching dark green shirt. "Does that mean you think I'm a fashion disaster?"

She simply laughed. He looked outstanding in a suit and she was sure he knew it. "I think the glow in the dark bug underwear says it all."

A relaxed chuckle escaped his lips and he turned to her his fingertips lightly grazing the bandage on her neck, as he brushed aside a few random strands of hair. "Are you going home after your appointment? Do you want me to pick you up there?"

A look of total horror flashed across the young woman's face. "Oh shit…" She flushed and pulled her lab coat off. "I completely forgot." Wincing minutely, she slowed her movement and dropped the discarded coat onto a nearby chair. "It's 8:25. I uh…" She spun in place; her eyes falling on the purse perched on the edge of Grissom's desk. He'd given it to her when she'd settled in to help with the regression. "I have to go. My appointment is at 8:30." Grabbing it, she hastily made her way towards the door and then stopped. "I brought my dress. I'll change at the spa. The chapel is fifteen minutes away and I have to be there before 11." She smiled at him. "I'll meet you back here." The rapid tap of her shoes betrayed the fact that she was jogging somewhat stiltedly as she made her way towards the locker room.

Once again Sara Sidle amazed him. He didn't know any other woman that would have simply forgotten a beauty appointment. Not that she needed it anyway, in his eyes she was perfectly stunning, make-up or no make-up.

**TBC**

**_Crime lab_**

**_August 25th_**

**_10am _**

Sara was cursing animatedly as she entered the lab for the second time in 12 hours. This time she wasn't sporting a pair of loose jeans, a tank and a pair of flats. Instead she was dressed in a stunning yellow floor length gown, with a low pumps, and looked so entirely different that Judy the night receptionist, who was on her way home, didn't even recognize her until the lanky brunette called out an obligatory goodbye on her way past.

Judy did a double take and almost walked into the wall, before she muttered an embarrassed reply. There were a few more turned heads and the sound of several dropped items emanating from various work rooms in the lab as she wandered by looking every bit like a misplaced Miss America. Sara ignored everyone and everything as she made her way through down the maze of corridors.

It was 10am and the young CSI was peeved. As it turned out Catherine's stylist was very good, but she was hearing impaired particularly where Sara's protests were concerned. All she had asked was if the woman could please leave her hair down and simply tame the curls. That didn't happen, not even remotely. The stylist had left her hair to dry naturally into its typical ringlets while Sara went to get painted only to sweep it up leaving only a few relaxed tendrils to curl around her face. It looked good. Damn good, but it left her with a nasty problem; a blood caked palm sized bandage stuck to the back of her neck which certainly didn't match the outfit.

This is how she found herself in the break room, first aid kit in hand, and facing the rest of the graveyard shift, who'd clearly felt it was necessary to stick around and offer their appraisal. A low whistle echoed through the room.

"Well look at you girl…" Warrick was on his feet in no time and had her in his arms. "You look amazing."

Sara flushed noticeably as Nick mimicked Brown's movements and drew her into a loose embrace. "Yeah, Sar… You look absolutely gorgeous." He kissed her cheek and released her. "You might out do the bride, Sweetpea."

"God..." She grinned. "You would think that I was incapable of getting dressed up or something."

"There have been times we've wondered…" Catherine put in. It sounded like a put down, but the smile on the older woman's face told her she was simply teasing. "I hate to say it, but I told you so." She moved closer and inspected the area where Sara's bruising had been. "You look amazing. Definitely made it worth the four stores we went to."

"Yeah, this is the thing fantasies are made of…" Greg announced before tugging the slim brunette into a tight hug.

Sara groaned slightly, but returned his grip. "Let me guess Kevlar dresses and a quickie in the breakroom?"

Everyone laughed when Greg nodded and then shook his head as a second later when a harried entomologist walked in.

"You're back…" He announced surprise etched into his voice. "I thought I heard Hodges mumbling something about a super model in the hallway. I figured his head had turned to mush from messing around with all those chemicals."

Everything from a baritone guffaw to a high pitched giggle sprung up around the room.

"I actually have a favor to ask of one of you." She held up the kit in her hands. "Amy, Catherine's stylist, put my hair up which means I need a bandage change. Gina, the bride, passes out at the sight of blood, so this might just kill her." She waved her hand over the offensive item knowing that it looked pretty brutal. "Who wants to play doctor?" She eyed Greg expecting him to take up the offer, but he backed away. So her dark orbs traveled to each face and all were shaking their heads or waving their hands at the opportunity. "Come on guys. I seriously can't go like this. Once a friend of mine had a bloody nose in front of her and she dropped like a rock."

They all looked pensively at each other. In their eyes she'd been through more than enough. No one wanted to take a chance on hurting her again. "Really it will be okay. I won't moan, scream, assault you or anything. Promise." There were still no takers. "Please, if she passes out it will ruin her wedding day." She looked pleadingly at Greg who was studying his shoes intently.

"Sit down at the table." It was Grissom. He dropped his empty coffee cup into the sink and took the kit from her hands as she complied. He examined her closely for a second and let out a soft sigh. "Greg…" He stared at the bloody bandage a moment longer contemplating the best way to remove it. The plastic looked like it was almost fused to her skin, a collection of blood sitting beneath its clear surface. Removing it was going to be difficult with out pulling the stitches, and yanking out some of the small ringlets, trapped under the thick film. "Greg, pass me a tea towel from the drawer, please." He motioned to the drawer and cast a pained glance at the other three people in the room. Placing his hand on one slim shoulder he leaned in. "Are you going to be okay? This is probably going to hurt Sara and I'm worried about ripping out the stitches."

Her voice quivered partially at the thought of the pain and partially because of the feel of his hand on her bare skin. "I'll be fine. I can take it. Just please do it."

"Hey…"

All eyes in the room turned to Jim Brass as he entered.

"Hey back…" Sara lifted her head up to look at her friend and smiled.

Letting out a low smooth whistle, the seasoned police Captain stared at the vision in yellow. "Looking good, Cookie..." He grinned and moved into the room, dropping a thick file on the table in front of her. "I see you've been attacked by the extreme makeover team."

Sara rolled her eyes and replied sounding incredibly tortured. "Yeah their name is Catherine Willows…" She gazed at the non-descript manila folder curiously before reaching to open it. The slim brunette had just placed her hand on the cover when she felt his thicker weathered palm cover hers.

"This is yours. The hard copy has already been entered, electronically sealed and there is no other paperwork."

"Oh." She pulled her hand off the item like it burned and studied it a moment, very much aware that all of the eyes in the room were on her. Flipping it sideways, she drew the file slowly in front of her and crossed her arms over it, all the while fighting back the tears that were suddenly threatening to flow. "Can't you get into trouble for this?"

"Nah…" He waved her off nonchalantly as if giving away case files were an everyday occurrence. "Once everything has been submitted electronically the paper actually just gets filed away. So I figured you could file it for me. Just not under G okay?"

The entire room just stared at the captain dumbfounded, including the object of his attention. "Uh…yeah…" Sara stared at the folder before uttering a worried, "thanks."

"That's mighty ugly…" He leaned over and inspected the mess at the back of Sara's head. He'd known it was there, but it had been covered by her hair each and every time he'd seen her. "When I found you, you were beside the counter. I bet that's what you hit."

Sara raised an eyebrow and then nodded. "I don't remember much. There was the sensation of being shoved and then the lights went out." She closed her eyes, willing the memory into her consciousness, but there were only snippets. Opening her eyes once more Sara looked at the man in front of her and asked something that had been sitting in the back of her mind for a while. "Um…Brass was Luke near me when you found us?"

There was immediately a void in the small space, at the mention of his name but it was something that Sara needed to know. She was well aware of the disparity in the emotions of all of the people in the break room. She was fairly certain that Grissom and Brass were probably both glad that the man was dead, otherwise, the young CSI suspected that the two of them might be plotting his demise, or at the very least what they would be wearing to his execution. The other four sported varying degrees of pitying looks, which she imagined would change once they discovered the truth.

"Uh yeah…he was beside you. Why?" Brass shared a look with Grissom that told her, he wasn't sure how much to reveal about the scene.

Sara shook her head in amazement, her confusion notched up a few more degrees, as she began to work her forehead. It looked to all watching as though she was trying to come up with some internal explanation for something, but she was at a loss. The man was a paradox. "I thought I remembered him pushing me out of the way. That's when I hit my head."

"Well, it was the least he could have done…" Brass' angry words were acknowledged by a silent nod of agreement from the man standing behind her. Sara spotted it via the reflection in the window and turned her eyes away choosing instead to smile sheepishly at the rest of the crew. All of them bore a look that said they were now well aware that there was some important piece of information to which they weren't privy.

Nick was actually set to inquire when a tight head shake from Grissom stopped him short. "Sara…put your head on your arms. This may take a few minutes and I think you're running out of time."

"Right…" She complied grateful for the diversionary tactic.

The table wobbled as Brass leaned against it and slid a second and more suspect item towards her. It was a long slender box. "Something else," he stated tapping Sara on her hand.

She lifted her head allowing her eyes to pass from the item to Brass before he threw a silent nod in her direction.

Grissom lobbed a dark look at his friend, but Jim Brass waved him off his face devoid of information

"Holy hound dogs…Someone hand me a scorecard…" Greg was the first to verbally respond to the jewelry box the detective had offered up he was going to go on, but a caustic look from his Grissom silenced him.

Warrick and Nick just gawked dumbfounded at the detective's gesture, silently wondering if maybe there was something they had been missing all along.

While Catherine's curiosity got the better of her and she prodded the younger woman her gaze passing rapidly between both Grissom and Brass. "Open it, Sara…"

The younger woman's hands were shaking as she reached for the object, hoping to God it wasn't the damn ring coming back to haunt her, yet again. She bit her lip and cracked open the box a smile instantly brightening her face.

"You dog you!" Greg was practically bouncing with energy. "That must have set you back a pretty penny." He leaned in to get a look at the item in question just as Catherine snatched it up off the table.

The blonde woman inspected it closely, before removing it from the box for everyone to see. "It's beautiful. It must be an antique." Her eyes trailed from Brass to Sara and back again.

"Man are you gonna get me an antique watch if I get injured on the job?" Greg taunted.

"Nah man, you don't have Sara's legs…" Nick put in more confused now than he had ever been during the last few days.

Brass waved away the insinuations. "Don't look at me…" He pointed to Grissom. "I'm just the delivery man; he's the person responsible for this." He wagged his eyebrows insidiously and let the words echo about the small room.

Warrick simply stared his eyebrows practically touching his hairline, while everyone else's jaws dropped.

Grinning smugly, Grissom placed the tea towel on the table and took the watch from Catherine's hands. "Give me your wrist Sara." He ordered, slid the cool gold watch around her small wrist and latched it. " Sofia called to tell me that they had found it at Luke's apartment. It's been processed and documented completely. I had the clasp fixed and Jim was kind enough to pick it up from the jewelers."

There were tears in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the shiny surface. "Thank you." The words were raw. "It was my grandmother's." She told the rest of the people in the room. "I thought I had lost it for good."

A few sighs of relief broke through the nervous tension in the air.

"Man, you people are seriously hard up for gossip." Brass chuckled.

Nick laughed at this and shook his head.

"You can say that again." Warrick agreed and a tight guffaw escaped him; his gaze falling on an embarrassed Greg Sanders.

Catherine had absorbed everything and found that the only outstanding thing of importance at the moment was the watch itself. She gripped Sara's wrist and closely examined the item adorning it. "This looks really pricey..." She fingered the small diamonds and rubies set amongst the woven gold band. "Vacheron Constantin." The older woman read the delicate writing on the simple pearl face plate.

The slim brunette nodded a far away look gracing her countenance. "It is a family heirloom. One of the true things of sentimental value from my family, it goes back several generations on my grandmother's side." The son of a bitch hadn't won after all.

"Wow, all my grandmother ever gave me was some really bad advice about men." The blonde woman countered before letting go of the younger woman's arm.

"Listen we could get into brutal family comparisons, but that could take all day…and I would win hands down." Sara smirked.

"That sounds like future bar conversation to me," Catherine agreed.

"Hey Babydoll…" Sara's head shot immediately over to the doorway, where a tall well dressed man in a perfectly tailored black suit stood leaning against the darkened metal frame.

"Denny…" She looked confused and pleased all at the same time. Standing up she moved across the room as he came in to meet her.

"You look amazing…Darlin'" He pulled her into a careful embrace and rocked her. "A whole fuckload better than the last time I saw you."

"Yeah…sure…whatever…What are you doing here?" She eyed him up and down. Immaculate as always…every sun-kissed blonde hair in place… She could see out of the corner of her eye. Catherine was enthralled to say the least.

"I love you too…" He grinned and nodded at Grissom. "I just came to make sure you weren't planning on beggin' off."

She moved away from him and held her hands out at the side. "Would I do something like that?"

"Hell yeah." His eyes skimmed the face of the people in the room and noted that they were all agreeing silently with him. "See they know you, too."

Sara rolled her eyes and couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe, but not today and not to Gina," she clarified and started by pointing to Nick. "That's Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown…" She turned and continued, "Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Greg Sanders and Jim Brass." Slipping a slim hand around his forearm she nudged him. "Everyone, this is my friend from San Francisco, Dennis Maitland."

"Hey…" He nodded and winked at Sara. "So do you need a ride over?" he asked, hoping at the same time that Grissom had taken his advice.

The slim brunette squinted at him warily. "Where's Christine?"

"In the car…"

Sara trained a dubious look in his direction.

"Promise…"

"Then I guess you know the answer to your question." She turned went to take her seat at the table.

He made claws out of his two hands and made a nasty hissing meow sound. "Cat fight…"

"May I remind you that it's _your_ _girlfriend_ who hates _me_?" She dropped back into her seat in front of a staring Grissom. "Oh and I would win any cat fight… hands down dude…" She smiled triumphantly and dropped her head onto her hands as Grissom rested the Tea towel over the delicate band of material encompassing her neck.

The blonde man laughed heartily and moved over to get a better look at what Gil Grissom was doing to his friend. "That I don't doubt." He smiled flirtatiously at Catherine as he moved by her. "Captain Brass…" His hand was out immediately and the two men shook vigorously.

"You know Christine is going to come in here mad enough to spit tacks, if you don't hurry." Her words were muffled, as she was speaking into her crossed arms. "Go I'll see you there."

"Just checking out what Dr. Grissom is up to…" He moved over to his friend and shook his head. "Man that's disgusting."

"Good thing you don't have to look at it then," was Sara's wry reply.

"Damn you're testy Honeybunch; you should get some more sleep." He rested his hand on her shoulder and shot a telling look at the man beside him. "Nice to see you again, Dr. Grissom…"

The bugman merely nodded and squeezed Sara's free shoulder. "You ready?"

Sara simply bobbed her head against her arms.

"This is going to hurt." Grissom began, his fingers beginning to tug at the bottom half of the bandage.

"I can take it." She mumbled, her teeth tightly clenched against the pain as he began to pull the clear dressing away from her neck, taking some of fine hairs there with it.

In the beginning it seemed to come away easily, small flakes of dried blood chipping off as Grissom slowly worked it away from her skin, but then it became more difficult closer he got to the wound. He was terrified of tugging out the stitches. The night shift supervisor was so focused on his task that he didn't notice the tall dark haired man who'd moved up beside him until their shoulders were practically touching.

Grissom started slightly and was about to ask him who the hell he was when he noticed both Dennis Maitland holding a finger to his lips. A slightly oversized navy suit clung loosely to the guy's wiry frame, so Grissom figured he was an old friend, maybe someone attending the wedding. Squinting suspiciously at the two men, he complied with their silent request and continued working the edge of the bandage as the man pulled a chair out beside Sara and dropped into it.

There was something familiar about the man's eyes…

The brown haired man's hands were shaking as his long lean fingers reached out and grasped Sara's. She clearly thought that it was Dennis because she didn't move, just returned his grasp with a slightly grateful squeeze, her body visibly relaxing at their shared touch. That is, until the man leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Suck it up Princess… It'll be over in a flash." Those words caused a reaction that had Grissom cursing and his patient out of her chair immediately.

Sara gaped dumbfounded, a haunted look marring her beautiful features. She'd recognized the voice and words immediately. It was the face, however, that was almost her undoing. One tremulous hand was over her mouth and she shook her head slowly while the man returned her stare a soft smile plastered on his face.

Everyone else in the room was on guard, uncertain as to whether this guy was friend or foe. Brass even went so far as to reach for his gun; his fingers tensing around the butt of it. After all she'd been through he was more than willing to shoot the shit out of someone who was trying to hurt her. It might even help his own heightened frustration level.

Warrick gripped her arm lightly to steady her and for moral support, while Nick stepped in a little closer behind her.

Everyone else simply watched on in amazement at the silent conversation Sara and the stranger seemed to be having. Her face said it all; pain, fear, love, frustration… It took a few moments, but the slim brunette finally came to terms with the man in front of her.

"Wow…" Sara let out a hitched breath and did her best to slow her booming heartbeat. Waving one of her hands in front of her she looked as though she was trying to shake away something disturbing. "You cut your hair." The words came out raw. "And ah…shaved." She was openly trembling.

His was the face of a ghost. The man nodded silently and then turned to Dennis. "Told you the hair cut was a bad idea, bro."

Maitland simply shrugged.

"Sorry…" He grinned sheepishly. "Now you know why I kept it long for all those years. You can't tell me you didn't see it, Sara. Every time you looked at me. I sure as hell did."

The truth of it was she hadn't really looked at him for a very long time. It had hurt far too much. She shook her head. "No…" She moved over to him and placed a careful kiss on his cheek. "You look…" She was finding it difficult to find the words. "You look good." She reached for his hands and squeezed them, her eyes seeking out his, and in them she saw clarity. "Just grow your hair out a little more." As if to make things a little easier she reached up and mussed it before resuming her seat.

Today was already a shit storm and it was only 10:25. Jesus 10:25 Sara eyed her watch. "Sorry…" She turned a worried eye to the man behind her. He was holding the tea towel again. It had fallen to the floor with her sudden departure.

"You're Dr. Grissom." It wasn't a question. "Dennis mentioned you. Sir…why don't you hold my sister's hand while I get this thing off." He elbowed the older man aside and inspected the bandage.

The entomologist's mouth chin hit the floor along with everyone else's in the room. Recovering quickly, he took a closer look at Evan Sidle. Despite the coloring and similarly shaped eyes, the two siblings didn't look very much a like. Evan's nose was wider, lips thinner, and his face shape was more squared. Yet, he was still an attractive man, though the years of wear and tear his addiction had put on his body were clearly evident in the tension lines worn into his face.

Nodding Grissom placed the tea towel back across Sara's neck and took a seat beside her, his hand snaking out and gently enveloping hers. The warmth of her palm was alive and electric against his own tepid skin, and he felt a gush of emotion roll through him.

"Ev. This isn't a good idea…" Sara looked apprehensively at Grissom, her mouth twisting like she'd bitten into a lemon.

"Please, we've done this a few hundred times. So quit your bellyachin'"

"Exactly and it hurt each and every time." She reminded him petulantly. Memories from far too frequent hospital visits flooded her already overwhelmed mind.

_"Hold on little girl…" He'd whisper and then would pull whatever it was that had been applied to her bruised and broken skin; she in turn would holler and kick him._

"Consider it payback for all the shit you've done to me over the years…" He grinned.

The dark haired CSI turned back to him eyes wide in amazement. "You have got to be kidding me…" She looked like she was going to strangle him on the spot.

He simply laughed outright at her expression, and winked. "Come on sis, isn't that what big brothers are for?" He leaned in and cast a knowing sideways look at her. "We're supposed to be a pain in the ass…right?" It was a shadow of an apology though no one else in the room could hear it.

"Right…" She let out a heavy sigh and dropped her head onto her arms. "Just get it over with already or I'm going to be late," she bitched her fingers tensing around Gil's.

"Okay little girl."

"I'm hardly little…"

The older Sidle sibling chuckled. "Sure..." He laid his fingers just below the wound to where the bugman had managed to remove the bandage, and then pressed. "On the count of three…" He counted and just before he actually said three he rolled his finger against the stitches and ripped the bandage off. This drew a yelp of pain from the woman leaning over the table, and tears instantly flooded her eyes.

It was a damn good thing that the makeup they'd applied had been done with a spackle.

"Fuck Evan…" Was all she managed; her free hand instinctively going to the mess on her neck."

"Be good, Sis or I'll put you over my knee." Evan Sidle warned lightly, his long fingers massaging the bruised and reddened area below the wound, causing dark brown flecks of blood to drop off onto the table and the folder beneath her arms. He fended off her inquiring hand with one of his.

The whole process had taken mere seconds, but Gil Grissom contemplated the fact that in that short time she might actually have broken his fingers with her grip.

Brass was still wincing and Nick, Greg and Warrick had turned away, leaving only Catherine, Dennis and Grissom to stare on in aggrieved interest.

"I dare you…" Sara grinned her wayward palm making another attempt to sooth the pain in her neck.

"Hand on the table now…or you're gonna mess this up." The older Sidle ordered. "And you might want to give Dr. Grissom back his fingers…before gangrene sets in," he stated easily.

Sara complied with both requests, her cheeks flushing at the fleeting look of pain on her boss' face. "Sorry…"

He shook it off and pumped her forearm once before standing to get a better look at the wound.

There was little or no blood as a result of the vicious bandage removal, so Evan just wiped away the rest of the dried stuff and grabbed an alcohol swab from the nearby kit to finish up the cleaning job.

Grissom assisted, passing him the items needed to clean and redress the wound. He noticed the tremors in the younger man's hands as he went about his work, and speculated as to whether it was nerve damage from years of drug abuse, or simply nervousness.

He really didn't have much time to ponder, as a piercing voice rolled down the corridor outside the breakroom…

"Denny!!!!" She was wondering through the hallways looking every bit like a bridesmaid gone astray crossed with a mid-scale hooker and she was clearly pissed. Her voice actually jumped an octave as she drew closer, the shrillness of his name having the effect of nails on a black board, as she stuck her head into labs and offices calling it out.

"Sweet fucking Jesus!" Maitland moved like lightening, a look of utter fear plastered on his handsome face. He dropped the coffee he'd helped himself to onto the counter and wrapped his fist around the arm of a shocked looking Greg Sanders'. Tugging the young CSI into his girlfriend's line of vision he ordered him to stay there and ran off down the hall to placate her.

"Told you so…" Sara called out as he cleared the doorway.

Everyone in the breakroom gawked through the floor to ceiling glass partitions trying to get a look at what kind of a woman could possibly make such a heinous sound.

Evan chuckled. "That boy is so whipped." He peeled the backing off the bandage and pressed it to his sister's skin. He inspected his handiwork momentarily and the dropped a soft kiss on top of it. "All better," he announced. His hand finding her shoulder, he gripped it tenderly.

"Evan…let's head…"

It was Denny. His arms were around the dreaded Christine and he was leading her away towards the elevators, the boom of his voice trailing behind him.

"I think that's my cue to leave…" He nodded to the other people in the room. Not really knowing anyone, but grateful that they were clearly close to his sister.

Sara's head was up off the table and she was staring at her brother uncertainly. "Yeah thanks…"

He held a hand out to Grissom who took it and shook it. "Goodbye, Dr. Grissom…"

Concern was evident on the older man's face and he cast a look at Evan Sidle that told him in no uncertain terms that he knew exactly what he was about. "Mr. Sidle..."

A cringe hijacked the younger man's body. "Uh…Mr. Sidle is my dad…Evan will be fine." Leaning in he planted a soft kiss on his sister's cheek."

"I'll see you at the wedding," he told her with a wink.

A look of confusion flashed across her face. "You know Gina?"

"I know everyone, Sar." He flashed another smile in her direction. "Gotta go my date's waiting for me..."

"Date…?" She almost choked on the word and rose from the chair a little unsteadily. "God, isn't this all very Twilight Zone to you?"

"Yeah…" he grinned sheepishly. "We'll talk there." He moved towards the door waving a hand behind him. "I gotta go ref Denny and the Beast, and I promised Jules we'd be there on time for once."

"Jules…? She's not your date, is she?" Sara's friend was bright and attractive, and went through men like they were used tampons.

He simply nodded.

"Jesus…She'll eat you alive, Ev." Sara's hand was up and she kneaded her forehead contemplatively.

"That…" he wagged his eyebrows at her. "Is exactly what I'm hoping for..."

Almost every guy in the room laughed at the innuendo, while Sara simply looked ill. "That is way too much info…" She called out as he left the room.

He happily waved her off and dashed down the hallway.

Sara felt like she was running, but would never catch up. Someone somewhere had taken hold of her life and cruelly turned it on its end. Her eyes moved in the faces of the people around her. Some looked amused, some looked confused…

"I didn't even know you had a brother…." Catherine stared at Nick and Warrick who were both chuckling.

"Neither did we, until yesterday…" Greg put in. "You never talk about him, Sara…" It didn't come out as a question, but she knew it was.

_How come?_

Sara shook her head looking slightly pained. "Sorry I should have introduced you all…" Her eyes dropped to the table in front of her and she stared at the folder flakes of her dried blood decorated it. It was an epiphany of a sort. The people around her were her friends and yet she really hadn't allowed them entrance to her life. "Dennis has been my friend since I was very little and Evan…well he's had some problems."

"He seems okay now?" Nick offered his thick muscular arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah…" was all Sara said. There had been times in his life that he had been _okay_ before, but it hadn't ever lasted very long.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" Warrick leaned against a table off to the side of the room.

"Guys…" Grissom was going to stop the interrogation, concerned that this was something she wasn't ready to talk about just, yet, but Sara simply turned to him and shook her head.

"It's only been about 10 months." Sara reached for the folder off the table and walked over to the counter her back to everyone in the room.

"Oh…you looked like…" Greg shrugged. "I dunno, like you hadn't seen him in a while."

"Yeah…" Opening the folder she sucked in a wavering breath, at the stack of pictures sitting on the top. "I used to go back to San Fran every few months to see him and everyone else, but it's been a while…" The last time she'd been to visit she'd found him slumped over a dirty toilet, vomit covering his shirtless body, with a needle sticking out of his arm and his face was so blue she thought for sure that he was dead, but there had been a pulse, a faint one, so she gave him mouth to mouth until the ambulance arrived. Then once she was certain he was out of the woods she'd called Denny and told him she was done. She simply couldn't do it any more.

"Oh…" Greg's eyes flitted over the slim brunette's back and he watched as she flipped through what looked like a series of photos.

"He…ah…" The first set of pictures was from the original accident at the scene, they had been taken at the hospital after she'd arrived. She left them in the file. "He cut his hair. It used to be much longer." The next set was from when Brass had taken her to the hospital. These she put aside into a smaller almost empty folder. "When I first saw him it was a surprise, that's all. He used to have this stubbly beard." Her hand involuntarily went to her chin, but voice was steady - despite the horror of what she was looking at. Flipping through the notes she found the one other thing that she wanted, her financial records, so she set them into the smaller folder and closed both. "He actually looks remarkably like my dad, with his hair short and no fuzz." This time her voice did waiver slightly as she turned with both folders in her hands. Sara smiled painfully.

Brass' expression was solemn and he stared at her compassion written into the deep lines of his face.

Grissom had moved up beside her and was still wearing the apprehensive look from earlier. His eyes flicked from his watch to her stoic features and he tapped his wrist. "Time for the princess to leave for the ball…"

"Right…God I hate weddings…" She cast a glance at her own watch and passed the smaller of the two folders to Grissom. "Uh...I know you all have questions and thanks for being so patient." She held up the remaining folder and chewed the inside of her lip. "Most of the answers will be found in here. I think it would simply be easier if you each had a chance to read it and um…" She threw a quick look at Grissom who nodded at her silently. "Then when you are finished just give it back to Gris." She handed it over to Catherine. "I have to clean up this stuff and then go. Gina's gonna kill me."

"Get out of here then, I'll clean up the mess…" Catherine smiled at the younger woman and shoved her towards the door. "And put a bib on when you're eating…" It was condescending, but terribly funny so everyone laughed, providing a much needed break in the tension.

"Okay…" Sara grinned and headed towards the locker room. She was going to be at least five minutes late.

She'd just slammed the door to her locker when Grissom appeared in the doorway with his suit in hand.

He was smiling timidly at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" She stared at the grey green metal in front of her and reconsidered. "Actually, no, not really..." her dark eyes were swollen with unshed tears. "Seeing Evan…" She didn't know how to explain the pain she felt, so she just shoved it aside. "Wow…he really looks a lot like my dad…it kinda freaked me out." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "He almost died ten months ago…"

Grissom moved over to her and was going to take her into a hug, but she held out a hand to stop him.

"That wouldn't be a good idea bossman, well, at least not here." She grinned shyly.

Hooking the suit bag onto an open locker her, he eyed her warmly. "Let them talk…" His words were thick with caring, as he drew her into a liberal embrace. The heat of their two bodies mingling made him almost sigh with relief. "I showered earlier. It'll only take me a minute to dress. Let me drive us, okay?" He whispered into her ear.

Sara he nodded silently and grabbed her purse. "I need some air. I'll meet you at your car." With that she was gone.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

**_Disclaimer:_**_ see chapter one._

_Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew and Mrose. Your patience with the length of this story is exceptional. This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note that I did up the rating to M._

_Enjoy and thank you for all your reviews! You are spectacular, amazing and fabulous...And you make me want to write more!_

_This is the second last chapter and in the film industry if we were shooting this would be considered as being In the can... I will post the last chapter tomorrow..._

_Thanl you all for reading._

* * *

**Chapter 29**

Sara hated weddings, primarily, it was the penchant for people to over do the pomp and circumstance, and adhere to certain wedding guidelines, expectations and traditions — most of which made absolutely no sense— and the inalienable truth that not everyone welcomed the blessed affair.

There had never been one wedding that she had attended — and unfortunately she had attended a few — where there wasn't some type of overblown drama. Be it Grandma getting drunk and passing out in the wedding cake (like at the wedding of a distant cousin when Sara was ten) , or an ex-someone standing up and objecting to the actual marriage itself (like her friend Trini's first wedding where her ex-boyfriend announced to the packed church that he had been blown quite nicely by the bride the night before), it always seemed as though there was something to mar what should really have been a private declaration of love between two people shared with those who really cared about them.

Which was why, Sara was certain that _if_ she ever did marry, it would NOT be in a church, and it most certainly would NOT be attended by anyone other than her, her future husband and a few VERY close family and friends, and the attire would be relegated to t-shirts, jeans and flip flops. Screw the nay-sayers, and most importantly screw the two sizes two small, overly frilled and exceedingly fussy dress that women found themselves arguing with for the entire time they wore it.

Arriving at the chapel she had hoped saliently that this would be _the_ wedding to prove her wrong about weddings; to instill in her the faith that such formal ceremonies could be celebrated in a way that really did do justice to the couple and the actual meaning of marriage itself. Yet, this was not to be the case. Despite the fact that this one had been both low key and casual, by normal nuptial standards.

Gina, a small slender woman of 38, had made a stunning bride with her long dark hair and princess-like organza and silk dress. Her mother, father and a few relatives from out of town had shown up to wish the happy couple luck, along with various revelers from work and school in San Francisco, most of whom Sara knew as well.

It was an interesting walk through her past, accompanied by a concerned and protective piece of her present. Grissom had stuck to her like glue after her participation in the ceremony had finished, and the slim brunette figured it had as much to do with him not knowing anyone else there, as it did; his worry for her physical state.

She hadn't mentioned her observation to him, though, because she had been just happy enough to be able to enjoy the comfort of his company, and the knowledge that he did indeed care enough to offer the kind of personal support that he used to shy away from - often.

However, that said, she wasn't deluded enough to plan on any kind of a future with him either, or expect that he would actually maintain his present behavior beyond the time it took for her to recover.

It simply wasn't a Grissom thing to do.

From the Groom's side his only brother had attended with his two seemingly unhappy parents… Clearly Mr. and Mrs. Winfield weren't all that pleased with both the blessed nuptials and the place they were being held at.

This had been_ the_ drama and had lead to Gina crying inconsolably on Sara's shoulder before the ceremony and subsequently being forced to have her makeup reapplied, which set the entire thing back 30 minutes, giving the grooms parents even more ammunition with which to bitch about.

It was truly a vicious cycle.

The Heavenly Bliss Wedding Chapel a simple, but elegantly kitsch, locale clearly didn't meet with even the most lax of the snotty Winfield Family standards, and both of them had made that point painfully clear from the moment of their arrival.

Sara hadn't said anything to her friend, but she'd overheard the woman's future mother in law completely cutting up everything about the wedding from the location to the bride herself. The slim brunette hadn't needed to tell Gina anything, because Mrs. Gayle Winfield had taken it upon herself to tell the bride EXACTLY what she thought of the young woman and her tacky, trashy, and totally classless plans, wedding, wedding dress, and family - immediately before the ceremony – hence, the waterworks and subsequent delay.

Things did not look good in terms of this being a long term commitment.

Regardless, the ceremony had been simple and fun, with most of the attention being spent on the dinner reception at Shintaro. It was an elegant Japanese restaurant housed in the Bellagio Hotel. Fine china, shimmering gold chairs, a brightly patterned carpet set of the sunning wall of fish tanks behind the sushi bar, and the opulent architecture of the room.

It was atypical of most of the receptions Sara had experienced in the past, and this was a good thing.

There were no throngs of people, since the guest list had been limited by the need to travel the ceremony and no doubt the amount of money it would cost.

There was no head table in place. The happy couple, plus the best man – a guy named Dave and his date Suzy - Sara accompanied by Grissom and both sets of parents had been seated at one round table in the middle of the rest of the guests.

Dinner conversation had started out more than a little strained since the Mom Winfield had made a point of tossing out barely disguised jabs whenever the opportunity arose. But Sara had made a point of ignoring the woman's obnoxiousness, and everyone else had followed suit by talking over her the minute she started to spew.

The dinner music was limited to low key jazz, infused with a few love songs. And the dancing had been kept to a minimum. A tearful bridal dance with dad, a groom's dance with a drunken and somewhat belligerent mom, and a few more love songs, so the guests could burn off some of the calories they had consumed had been the theme for the evening. No blaring head banging music. No rap, and no Italian music, much to the chagrin of the bride's father.

Sara was eternally grateful, since sitting at a table staring at people dancing and loading up on the free alcohol had not been her idea a fun way to spend the better half of 4 hours. She had been plagued with dread since she was fairly certain upon entering the small restaurant that Grissom didn't dance or at least didn't like to. Though if someone had asked her how she'd come to that conclusion the young CSI would have been at a loss to come up with any supported reason. And much to her delight she found out that she was wrong. After dinner had been eaten and the first two dances were out of the way Grissom had immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, and for a while clutched in his arms, she had felt cared for, comforted, and that all was right in the world.

Once people were well on their way into party mode and for the most part pleasantly pissed, Sara had managed a few minutes with both Evan and Denny when Christine had unclamped her claws from him and headed for the washroom, but she had casually waved away any explanations or questions, telling them that she would make time to talk to them later.

While standing in the parking garage waiting for Grissom earlier that morning, Sara had made a decision. She had yet discuss it with the bugman, but she was hoping he wouldn't take it too badly when the time came.

Photos were taken with the wedding cake, the small bridal party and the parents, and then Sara and Grissom had made their way around the room, lightly chatting with old acquaintances and close friends, until it was time for the bride to throw her bouquet, and the groom, her lacy blue garter.

There had been oooohs and awwwes and a violent scuffle over both items, and then the happy couple had made their escape, follow closely by most of their guests.

_As they'd left Jules had said she would see Sara **later**… _

And _later_ had been the operative word.

In fact all of the women had said that they would see her _later._

And Sara knew exactly what that meant.

Drop the dude you're with, because…

_Later_ actually meant at her apartment within the next hour or so, to take part in an unusual and uniquely _female_ tradition.

Though, she had no doubt that some of them were already there since sometime during the course of the evening Josie had come and requested Sara's apartment keys. She'd given the woman the code and had gone back to catching up with Jules.

Her friend Catrina was also MIA. She'd been drunk as a skunk midway through the reception and the last Sara had seen of her, had involved another friend, Ana, dragging her from the small private restaurant at the Bellagio.

The beautiful brunette was fairly certain that the two of them had been headed for her apartment as they staggered out the door.

She wasn't sure when the tradition itself had started, but it had been during her senior year at Harvard that Sara was first been introduced to it. Her friend and lab partner Natty - a particularly statuesque black girl – had been the first of her friends fall prey to those fateful four words that almost all girls dream of hearing from the time they're old enough to play dress-up.

Natty's sister, Althea in celebration of her sister's marriage, and her own single status had gathered all of the other single female friends and family together for an evening of drink, cigars, joke telling, congratulations and condolences. One of their sister-hood had, for all intents and purposes, bit the dust - so the girls would get together and party, partly out of pity for themselves, and partly out of false sympathy for the poor girl who had just lost her freedom. And the key thing – all of this revelry was conducted in outrageously expensive lingerie. Sara supposed it was a lot like a bachlorette party, but with three big exceptions… One – the bride was not invited, two – it was usually held the night of the wedding, and three – the lingerie.

Sara had been the one to bring the tradition to the lab at San Fran and it had caught on like wild fire. So it was expected that Gina's wedding would be no different. In fact early into the reception Gina had herself bemoaned the fact to Sara, that she would no longer be invited to attend since her single status had now changed.

The young CSI had simply rolled her eyes and pointed out that Mrs. Winfield now had other things to attend to – like a hunky husband and a passion filled wedding night.

Gina had moped for a several minutes, but smiled brightly when her parents had dragged her off to meet with the few relatives who had flown in for the service.

At the present there was giggling inside the apartment, Sara could hear it through the door and she rolled her eyes at the impressively dressed man in front of her. She had tried all night to ignore it, but Grissom looked incredibly dignified and downright hot in a suit, and his touch – the way he'd held her while they were dancing, the way the warmth of his palm had felt against the almost bare skin of her midriff – had brought back the swell of attraction, that she had forced away with the misdirected help of Luke Denton.

One eyebrow slid upwards. "Looks like the party's at your place..." Grissom smirked, and took one of Sara's hands in his.

"Yeah…it's a tradition." She was hesitant to admit it because she really did have issues with traditions of any kind. "We get together to celebrate the demise of a woman's freedom."

Grissom looked surprised. "Really…?"

"Well yeah, sort of. It's based on the premise of why should the bride have all the fun?" She smirked at the shriek that let loose from behind the door. "And ends up being bitchfest crossed with a drunken celebration and occasionally there are even a few tears."

Two eyebrows rose in query, so she went on to explain.

"That's usually attributed the women who are certain they are never going to find a man to love them and pop the desired question." She rolled her eyes as more hysterical laughter rolled out from the crevices along side and under the door.

"But not you…" It wasn't a question, more of a statement, meant to draw some kind of reaction, though she had no idea what.

Sara shook her head slowly, the loose tendrils of her hair framing her face, and dancing animatedly about it. "NO…"

His thumb moved absently over the thin skin of her pale knuckles, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You never want to get married, Sara?" Grissom's voice was calm and protracted as if he was asking her a question about a case rather than something terribly personal.

She stared at him momentarily; the uncertainty in her eyes was plainly apparent before something shifted inside her and it hid itself away. "For obvious reasons, I'm not terribly caught up in the notion."

He studied her quietly for loaded instant, and she gazed back hoping that would be enough of an answer for him. When he didn't respond she felt compelled to explain a little further. "I just feel that some people – not all but a lot – believe that a marriage license gives them the right of ownership over their partner, and they tend to abuse that. I also feel that two people can live and love together for many years without having to have a legal and binding contract declare that they are devoted to one another."

He nodded silently and was clearly thinking over his next words before he let them roll off his tongue. "You know, not all marriages are bad…"

"I know…" she replied tentatively.

"And not all marriages are like your parents," he added.

"That's kind of saying the same thing, but I know that, too." A lump formed in her throat, and she found herself examining the wall over Grissom's shoulder. "I just really don't feel that the expectations that society puts on a couple, when they are in a relationship, should dictate the way they live their life or plan their future. A marriage license is after all, simply a piece of paper."

Something that sounded like a snort, followed by a whoop, resonated loudly from inside the apartment.

Sara couldn't help but smile.

Grissom's eyes darkened minutely. "Well I hope Ms. Sidle you'll give me the opportunity to change your mind at some point."

Grissom's words caused her heart to clench painfully and a cavalcade of emotions lined up in a neat procession behind her already staggering confusion. She shucked them all aside and decided to make light of his comment. "We can most certainly debate it at a later date and time." She winked. "You know me; I'm always up for a good argument."

A smirk took up residence on Gil Grissom's face. "Typical Sidle..."

"Sadly, a family trait..." She intoned softly.

Grissom bobbed his head silently. "I like a challenge. Why don't we start with tomorrow?"

Her eyebrows drew together slightly. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes…I owe you a dinner. The bugs stole me away last night." Grissom's eyebrows lifted hopefully.

"Ah…" Her feet, wrapped in delicate ballet like shoes, suddenly became very interesting. A slight squeeze of her fingers brought her attention back to the man in front of her.

"Don't take this as a no." She chewed her lip lightly and then pursed her lips.

"Okay…" A mask of unease fell across his face.

"But no…" A look of hurt flashed through his cerulean eyes, before she had a chance to explain. "I mean not tomorrow," she said hastily. "It's hard for me to admit, but you were right."

His look was intense as he fought away the panic that had formed in his chest. Was she going to tell him she wasn't interested? Was she going to tell him that all she was able to give to him now was friendship? Could he live with that possibility, or would it be too hard for him to rein in all of the emotions he'd set loose, after finally having acknowledged them over the past few days? He waited, his heart pounding like a jackhammer beneath his ribcage.

Sara noticed the change in his temperament almost immediately and sought to lighten things a little. "Now don't get used to me saying that," she warned him dark eyes meeting blue as she smiled at him slightly. "But I do think I came back too early." She swallowed back any second thoughts she was having and pumped his fingers with her slim cool hand. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to take a week _off _and go to San Francisco. Ana is driving back tomorrow and has asked me to come. I have some stuff to take care of there – with my brother and all that – he wants to go back to school in the fall." She shrugged. "Its weird, but I can't tell him no and then I am going to go to the vineyard for a few days. Seeing the pictures, I just feel I need to go back there." Her smile grew uncertain as his mood darkened even more. "I think I need a little down time to clear my head. Will that be a problem? With the lab?"

Grissom took a moment to compute what she was saying, his head swiftly firing back to the conversation with Dennis Maitland two days earlier. Had the man made good on his threat? He hadn't had a chance to talk to him at the wedding.

"No… It won't be a problem with the lab." A barrage of what ifs… assaulted him. What if she decided not to come back? She really had nothing to hold her to Vegas, except a few loosely uttered promises from him, given at a time when she was most vulnerable. How could she trust him to follow through when he'd so easily shied away from the ones he'd made to get her to stay in Vegas from the start? What if she decided it was too late for them? What if she decided to put the horror of what she'd had to live through the past few days behind her and make a fresh start amongst friends who loved her? What if he'd lost her forever? "Don't worry; I'll smooth things over with Ecklie."

One eyebrow crept up. "That sounds like an accident waiting to happen." When her comment didn't draw a smile, Sara dropped her eyes to their entwined hands. "If you want, I can give a few days notice first if it will make things easier…" She offered. "I can always fly in."

The enigmatic Gilbert Grissom knew he was allowing his own emotions to get the better of him. And he knew it was pretty damn selfish too. He'd always been bad at sorting through his feelings. He was also well aware he was being unfair to the woman in front of him so he shook his head. "No… you go… you need this." He was certain she wouldn't have asked if she didn't. "I'm just glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me." It was a small consolation.

She looked back up at him, her dark eyes taking him in. "I do. Thank you for that and everything else." Her face brightened. "Catherine said she thought you might have to donate your refrigerator to medical science because there were new life forms growing in it..."

This finally managed to bring a smirk to his face. "I'm keeping a few as pets and the fridge did survive, after a date with some bleach." He sobered. "You are coming back, right?"

Shock registered on Sara's delicate features and she squinted at him. "Ah…yeah…why would you think otherwise?"

Grissom shook his head. "No reason really…" He was lying and it was written all over his face.

From her apartment another round of giggles and a barrage of squeals erupted.

Sara ignored the noise completely, her dark eyes intently focused on the man in front of her. It took a moment, before everything finally fell into place. Back in the break room it had seemed like Grissom and Dennis had met, despite the fact that to her knowledge they'd never had the opportunity. It also appeared that her brother had been briefed on the situation with her supervisor/friend/mentor… Looking back it had to have been the police station.

It made sense.

Based on his mood when he left the room and knowing Denny the way she did, the tall brunette felt certain that he had made it a mission to talk to Grissom, and it suddenly became very important she find out what he had said.

At the wedding, she'd actually meant to pull her old friend aside and ask him how he was so familiar with Grissom, but except for a quick trip to the bathroom – during which Evan and Dennis had tried to interrogate her, the dreaded Christine hadn't let go of him all night.

"This has something to do with Denny…"

It wasn't a question and Grissom could tell by the look on her face that she was finally putting two and two together. "Not really."

A heavy sigh escaped her full lips and she shook her head. "Don't lie. I deserve better than that. What did he say?"

"Nothing, really…" Grissom didn't want to tell her the gist of the conversation because he knew that she would more than likely take it the wrong way. He didn't want her to think that his actions and the change in his relationship with her were brought on by her friend's words.

"But he did talk to you?"

"Yes." He had no choice, but to tell her the truth. She was right she did deserve more than a lie from him.

"What did he say… really? I know well enough to know that he wouldn't approach you unless he had something to actually say to you. Based on his mental state and the fact that he thinks he's my fucking keeper, I also know it probably wasn't very nice."

Grissom removed his hand from hers and brought both up to cup her face. "Sara he didn't say anything that I didn't already know, with regards to us."

His touch was warm and placating and it pissed Sara off. "What did he say?" There was a tension in her words.

"Okay… He told me that what had happened was my fault. He told everyone he thought you had been victimized by Luke." His gaze was steady, but his heart was thudding almost visibly in his chest.

"Fuck…" Aggravated she removed his hands from her face and held them between her own. "He really had no right to say anything to you, but at least now this all makes sense. Did he put you up to taking me to the wedding, too?"

A heavy sigh escaped him his blue eyes betraying the war in his head. "Yes and no."

"It can't be both Gris." She looked away from him, her lips tightly pursed.

Pulling his hands from hers he brought them up to her face, once again, and forced her to look at him. "I'm not going to lie and tell you that he didn't suggest it, nor am I going to tell you that it would have been something that I would have come up with on my own. We both know that were relationships are concerned and probably with most of the opposite sex - I'm non-compis mentis."

Despite her anger Sara had to smile, "been there…"

"But you have to believe me when I tell you. It was a good idea and when he suggested it, if I hadn't wanted to do it, I wouldn't have. I think you know that about me, too…"

"To be honest I am so messed up right now, I don't know what I know." Her eyes drifted away from him.

"Well know this Sara Sidle. He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know and accept responsibility for. And he didn't push me to do anything that I didn't want to do." His words were soft, but certain. One thick finger stroked a translucent cheek, causing a shiver to chase its way down her spine. "My only regret in all this is not doing something about the way I feel about you a long time ago and that by being such a coward, I did inadvertently contribute to what has happened to you."

Sara shook her head. "We've had this conversation already - recently. I'm a big girl. I make my own decisions… And who knows maybe if we'd gotten involved a few years ago we would be split up by now and wound up hating each other…"

Grissom sobered even more so. "Do you really think that that would happen to us?"

She smiled at him. "No… I hope not. But maybe you would learn how flakey I can be at times, get annoyed that I leave the cap of the toothpaste and I would hate the way you make the bed, or leave your socks all over the house…"

Grissom shook his head. "No…"

"Yeah…I know…" She'd really had just been trying to lighten the mood, though she had no idea why, when in reality she should still be angry. "We need to leave the past in the past."

"A brilliant idea…" Finally, a grin broke across his face and he surprised both of them by pulling her into a tender embrace. "Go, take the time you need. I'll be here when you get back." He whispered into her ear. Overcome by the desire to kiss her, he brought his hand up to stroke her hair, but was interrupted by the opening of her apartment door.

A blonde head popped out from behind the door and stared at them, green eyes dancing. "Dr. Grissom… We thought we heard voices…" Jules was a small woman, maybe five foot four with a friendly face and a contagious smile. She wasn't a cover model by any standard, as she was a little overweight, but she carried it well and her vibrant personality distracted from that easily. "I see you brought our girl home…She did tell you it was women only, right?"

Sara rolled her eyes and cast a glance over her shoulder, some part of her slightly relieved at her friend's interruption. "I told him…" She had a feeling for a moment, that their embrace was about to push them to a place she didn't feel quite ready for just yet.

"She did." Grissom released her and stepped away, his fingers moving down to squeeze hers.

"Good…" Jules laughed heartily and tossed a shimmering purple satin and lace teddy at the man. "Something to cling to, until we return her to you…"

Sara turned a stubborn shade of red and immediately snatched the item from his hands, before pushing the woman back in and tugging the door shut; almost catching the her friend's face in it. The word "Bitch…" sounded laughingly from behind the wood.

Grissom snatched the teddy back from her and held it up, before letting loose with a small low whistle.

When Sara reached to take it back from him again he pushed her arm aside and swiftly tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "She gave it to me." He said petulantly.

Her dark eyes flashed with humor. "But it's mine…"

"Yup and you will get it back, when you get back." He told her, before pulling her in and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

The soft bristles of his beard caused the skin there to tingle, as did his mouth. The sensation left her speechless.

With that he and made his way to the elevator, his hand swiping absently at the button. "Have fun, and take it easy…" There was concern in his eyes when he spun to look back at her. "I'll be waiting for you when you come home."

The word _home_ was not lost on her, as she waved to him and watched mutely as he stepped onto the waiting elevator.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

**_Disclaimer:_**_ see chapter one._

Here it is - The end - Finally  
**Special thanks to my betas Bellabrew/Elle and Mrose they have been exceptional from the outset.**  
_This is set prior to GSR becoming canon maybe you should consider it a step in the right direction. Also all of the CSI characters are represented here, and a few new ones. Hope you enjoy this chapter._

_This is the last chapter.  
__  
Thank you all for reading and reviewing you are the best encouragement a writer could have._

* * *

**Chapter 30**

**_Grissom's office_**

**_Aug 31, 11pm_**

A gentle tap on the doorframe startled Gil Grissompulling his attention from the file in front of him, and drawing his eyes up to the vision in red standing just inside the door. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of Sara Sidle dressed in a simple form fitted sundress and low slung heels. Her hair hung in loose ringlets around a lightly bronzed face and full smile was spread across her ruby lips. She looked like a breath of fresh air and smelled like sunshine.

"Hey…" She waved shyly.

Blinking at the image before him, the enigmatic entomologist willed his heart to slow and glanced at the calendar on his desk just to confirm that he hadn't lost a day or two somewhere. He was genuinely happy to see her, but puzzled by the fact that she was back two days early. "You weren't supposed to return until Sunday…" He'd been counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds…

She shrugged her bare shoulders and moved into the room. "I called and left a message." She tossed a stack of pink papers on his desk. "You forgot to pick them up."

Nodding slowly, he grabbed the pile and shifted through them; nothing important except for one from the woman standing in front of him. He looked at her questioningly. "You're back on tonight?"

"Yeah, I talked to Ecklie this morning. He transferred Pretche back to days effective immediately. I guess he's kinda happy to have his most troublesome employee back."

Taking his glasses off, he dropped them on his desk and indicated the chair in front of him. "How was San Francisco?"

"Warm…" She smiled and took a seat. "Good."

"I thought you were going to the Vineyard…?"

Sara allowed a soft sigh to escape her lips. "Yeah… Well I decided not to go this time out. It would only have been two days, most of it spent in an airport, and I really didn't want to go there alone, anyway." The pretty brunette shifted restlessly in her chair and tucked one errant curl behind her ear.

"Bad memories…?" Blue eyes studied chocolate ones and then slowly trailed a warm path down the rest of the young woman in front of him. He forced himself to focus on the answer she was formulating.

"No…" She shook her head, her gaze becoming distant. "My time with my grandmother was good, for the most part." One slender finger moved up to trap a ringlet in its grasp and began to twirl it. "She was very old money, old school, old values, but she was a good person." A soft chuckle caused her chest to heave slightly, drawing Grissom's eyes to the smattering of freckles dusted across it. "She spent the better part of the month we visited every year, trying to undo all of the damage, my parents supposedly caused with their neglect and misguidance the other eleven months. She was one determined lady." A tight smile played across her mouth. "I was young and pretty malleable, but she and my brother had some major blow-ups. He didn't like to be told what to do."

Grissom smirked at this. "That doesn't sound at all like any Sidle I know…"

She licked her lips at this. "Yeah… But back then I was more likely to listen." She grinned at him. "She used to tell me that manners would serve me well. It would be a benefit for me to be able to sit down at the table with a president as well as a homeless person."

"She sounds like a smart lady."

"She was. I still remember everything she taught me." She brushed her hair off her face and continued. "I don't always use it, but it's burned into my brain."

"So…" He indicated the garment she was wearing. "We can dress you up, _and_ take you anywhere, despite rumors to the contrary?"

"Well knowing which spoon to use, doesn't necessarily ensure that you don't end up with your shoe firmly lodged in your mouth." She reminded him.

The Bugman chuckled at that.

"Mmmm, you laugh, but you didn't see Dennis' face when I told our fair Mayor that some of his policies suck…"

"So, Maitland's here?" Grissom's face darkened, at the mention of the man's name.

"He was… I dropped him off at the airport on the way from supper. We flew in together this morning. When he realized I was coming home, he asked me to join him. It was a working dinner." She feigned a yawn. "Boring… politics… I think the two of them are plotting to take over the world."

This explained her appearance. His eyes fell to the red nail polish adorning Sara's fingertips and matching toes. He imagined her arm in arm with the tall attractive DA and thread of jealousy snaked dangerously through him. They _had_ been lovers.

Grissom's mood sobered and he changed the subject, banishing thoughts of the younger man from his mind. If Sara had wanted to be with him, then she would still be in San Francisco. "Did your grandmother know about things at home?" He asked softly.

Sara Sidle gaped at him, his inquiry catching her off guard. Then she slowly nodded her head. "I think so." She shrugged. "I mean my brother always had bruises. She never inquired, but I think she knew."

"How come your mother never asked for help?" He knew he was prying; it was definitely a question she didn't have to answer. But it was like an addiction, he suddenly felt compelled to know everything about the woman who had become his emotional failing.

"Ah…" One golden hand stroked a non existent wrinkle from her dress and she drew in a wavering breath. "Well. They didn't get along." Her eyes grew distant as if recalling a long ago memory. "My mother met my dad one summer on the Vineyard. She had just finished her final year of high school and he worked at one of the shops in town. My grandmother didn't approve. Her daughter had a future. She had a full scholarship to Stanford and my dad, well let's just say he was not the type Nans wanted near her."

"A boy from the wrong side of the tracks…?" Gil Grissom offered.

"Mmmm… Yeah…" Sara caught Grissom's blue eyes and smiled tightly. "You know that fact alone, the fact that she judged him instead of seeing the potential in him, colored their whole marriage. He never thought he was good enough for her, so he spent all of his time trying to erode her confidence, to improve his. It's so sad; because it wasn't necessary. He was a smart man. He could take apart things, anything actually, figure out what was wrong with it, and reassemble it in a heart beat. He would have made an amazing mechanical engineer. When he was sober…" She added. "My, ah, my mom got pregnant with Evan, that summer and the two of them ran off to get married. They moved to Tamales Bay. His parents had a plot of land, with two old houses, and a tiny cottage on it. I think it had been in the family for years. My parents fixed up the smaller of the two homes and my mom stayed home with Evan, while my dad worked. When his parents were killed in a car accident, they turned the big house into a B&B. It was a very successful business, but that didn't make things better. By the time I was ten, they'd sold the business and moved us to some crappy little neighborhood in San Francisco. My grandmother always said that he would drag her daughter down to his level."

"It must have been hard to have someone talk about your father that way."

Sara was speculative for a moment, and then she nodded. "It was, but she was right." Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself. "I think if they had been able to talk, my mom and Nans, things would have been different. But if wishes were fishes…" She smiled and allowed the man across from her to fill in the blanks.

He picked up a pen off the desk and played with it a moment. "You could have stayed in San Fran for the two extra days."

"Ha…" A full hearted laugh escaped the tall brunette. "I would have been pickled." Her voice was low and flushed with amusement. "My liver was already rebelling three days into my trip. My friends…" She pursed her lips and nodded. "As you know, they like to party. Jules works the day shift, so she took me bar hopping three nights in a row. Chrissy works nights, so she would drag me off to the beach every morning. I used to be able to keep up with them…" She pointed to her nose, it wasn't quite as tanned as the rest of her freckled face; in fact it was a little red. "I was so tired by day three, I fell asleep on the beach. Chrissy forgot to top up my sun screen and now I look like Rudolph. I freckle badly when exposed to the sun. When I was a kid, I used to think that maybe my freckles would grow together and I would have a solid tan… No such luck, the freckles get darker and all of the white stuff burns… especially my nose." She nodded to herself. "Coming home was for the best."

Gil Grissom laughed whole heartedly. "Did you take care of the stuff for your brother?"

"Yup, registered, paid for, etc…"

"Are you happy?"

"Ummm… He's 44 years old and just now getting an education. It's a long road. But let's just say that I am cautiously optimistic…" Her mouth tilted up slightly, but her eyes shone with hope.

Grissom prayed that she wouldn't be hurt again. "So…" He was cut off by an ear splitting scream from the hallway.

Sara was immediately out of her chair, her hand held up in front of her. "I forgot. I brought you back a couple of, umm… gifts." She pointed to the chair he was rising from. "Stay. I'll get them; otherwise you'll spoil he surprise."

Grissom's brows drew together. "You brought me back something that elicits screams from people...?" A glimmer of anticipation moved through him. He felt like a small child the morning of his birthday.

"Sorry Judy." Sara stepped out from the office and watched as the petite secretary made her way back down the hallway.

Shaking her head the blonde woman called back out over her shoulder. "You people are freaks!"

Picking up the large brown box she'd left beside the door, she turned and moved back into to the office. "I dropped this off at the morgue, on my way to dinner. Jones, the swing coroner, baby-sat."

Grissom rose to his feet trying unsuccessfully to catch a peek at what was in the box. "Baby-sat…?"

"Yeah…" Sara shifted nervously. "You don't have to keep them if you don't want…"

"Them…?" Grissom moved to step around his desk and the tall brunette stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Them…" She turned around, placed the box on the floor behind her and then turned back to face him. "My friend Jules was working this case… And I had her car, so I went to the scene to pick her up because she was off, and well the vic was a veterinarian, with all of these exotic pets." She shrugged. "When I saw these two, I thought of you…" Turning again she reached into the box and pulled out the larger of the two clear plastic traveling terrariums. It was about two feet long, and inside perched on a piece of wood, was a baby Komodo dragon. "Her name is Fluffy, according to the deceased's sister and she is very young."

Grissom's whole face lit up, as one of the largest smiles Sara had ever seen, grew across it. Reverently, he took the terrarium from her and placed it on his desk his eyes never leaving the creature within. He was moved to speechlessness.

"I talked to animal control, after they examined her; they said that she was going to be a small girl. Maybe, 30 – 40 lbs as an adult, which sounds large to me, but apparently, it's petite for a Komodo dragon… The guy said some of them grow to be about 166 lbs…?" Sara reached into the box again and drew out a shopping bag. "I have some chopped meat in here…" She dropped the bag on the desk in front of him, refusing to look inside of it. "I made Jules feed her before I left, but she's probably hungry now."

Still wide eyed, Gil Grissom removed a clear baggy from the shopping bag, slipped on one latex glove and withdrew a couple of chunks of meat.

Sara turned around immediately, refusing to watch as the small creature sunk its fangs into the food. "The animal control guys also said not to handle her too much until you've fed her. She might bite."

Grissom nodded almost imperceptibly and dropped in another chunk of meat. "She's beautiful…" He whispered. "Thank you…"

"I wasn't sure, if you would want her. As small as she is going to be, she's still larger than most dogs. So if you want, I think the zoo would take her." Sara's back was to her boss and his newest pet.

"No, she's amazing." He dropped in one more chunk of meat, resealed the bag, and placed it back inside the larger shopping bag before discarding the glove. "You can turn around now…"

The young CSI turned and watched as the man in front of her slipped his hand into the carrier. Gently, he ran one finger along the textured back of the lizard. "Want to touch her?"

Sara shook her head. "Nah… I'm sure Fluffy is nervous enough. Too many fingers might upset her." She leaned in and stared at the mini beast. "I knew you were disappointed a few years ago when the dragon you had on back order never showed up. Sooo… This seemed like karma… fate almost..."

Grissom nodded silently and replaced the cover on the plastic cage.

"Since this went so well, would you like to meet Betty?" Sara grinned, her dark eyes flashing mischievously.

One of the entomologist's eyebrows shot up. "Another dragon...?" He asked uncertainly. One he could handle, two might be overkill.

Sara shook her head, ringlets dancing. "Nope..." Turning around she removed the final terrarium from the box and passed it to her friend. "This is Betty."

Grissom's mouth dropped. "An _Avicularia avicularia..." _He was positively beaming now as he placed the carrier on the desk. "A Pink Toe from Northern South America…"

"That's what I was told." Sara quietly removed the lid and reached in. "Betty and I have bonded." She waited as the tarantula climbed onto her hand.

Both of Grissom's eyebrows lifted. "Bonded...?" He was astounded that Sara was even touching the large spider.

"Yup, she's a great drunk repellant." She smiled brightly and removed her hand from the terrarium with the black arachnid sitting in her palm. "She came to my rescue on the plane." Still smiling she held her hand out to the man beside her. "One look at her and the inebriated guy sitting across the aisle refused to talk to me for the rest of the flight."

"You took her out on the plane?"

"No, she was in her bed under the seat, but when the guy started falling all over me I took the whole thing out and sat it on the tray in front of me. My night in shining armor, Dennis, was fast asleep. Typical man…" She winked at Grissom and held her hand steady as the spider crawled onto his outstretched palm. "The drunk actually asked if he could change seats." She ran a slim finger across the spiders back. "Way to go Betty, you make a great traveling companion. And you're pretty, too. The pink on her toe tips makes it look like she is wearing little shoes."

Grissom chuckled quietly and placed the arachnid back in her bed.

The tall brunette studied him a moment, worry marring her face. "Are they okay?" She indicated the two creatures sitting on top of the cluttered desk. "Normally, I would have brought you back a souvenir t-shirt. I don't generally do the livestock thing."

He reached out and took her two hands in his; they were warm and soft, and disappeared easily into his own larger grip. "They're amazing… Really..."  
The slender brunette graced him with a classic Sara smile and his heart almost stopped in his chest.

"I know Betty will be okay in her carrier. But I had to make special provisions for Fluffy. We set up a heat lamp for her in the morgue. I think she'll need to sit under one again for at least a few hours before the end of shift." She told him.

Ever the science geek, Grissom grinned proudly and dropped Sara's hands. Grasping the larger terrarium he indicated for her to follow him around the shelves in his office to the back. Placing his precious cargo on the floor, he reached onto the bottom shelf and pulled out a huge glass tank. "I bought this for the dragon I ordered." He told her, removing the lid and pulling out the accessories stored inside. "It'll do for now, until she gets a little bigger." He removed the lid from Fluffy's present home and carefully clutched the reptile in one thick fist. Her tongue darted out and she stared at him blankly, but didn't move to bite him. "You're a good girl." He cooed, causing Sara to smirk. Then he placed her in her new home, popped the lid back on the tank and set up the lamp. Plugging it in, he flicked the light on and placed Fluffy on a chest level shelf.

Sara marveled at the boyish enthusiasm emanating from the 50 year old man in front of her. Her heart squeezed and with a flash of emotion all of the reasons she'd fallen in love with him came flooding back to her. She turned away trying to force her feelings back into the placed they'd come from. Her voice caught in her throat. "I should go and get changed."

"Wait…" He reached out and clutched her forearm.

When she turned back all signs of the little boy were gone, in his place stood a full grown man who staring at her with an unwavering intensity.

Sara Sidle swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled uncertainly.

His two warm hands slid upwards, skimming her arms and coming to a stop just below her shoulders. He studied her a moment his thumbs gently tracing circles where they rested. "The bruises are gone…"

She looked down at where Luke's handprints used to be embossed into her skin and nodded silently. "I left them in California, traded them in for a komodo dragon and a tarantula… It seemed like a good deal at the time." She told him, trying to make light of the moment.

But Gil Grissom would have none of it. In fact the strength of his gaze increased, as he moved his hands up to cup her face. "Thank you…" He murmured as he brought his mouth to hers in a languid, tentative kiss.

An intense heat moved from the top of Sara's head to the tip of her toes and she felt herself lost in a moment that was over far too soon.

Pulling away Grissom, studied the wide-eyed look of bewilderment plastered on the face of the woman in front of him and suddenly panicked. "I'm sorry. That was out of line, I shouldn't have done that."

The words he uttered hit her like a slap. Rolling her eyes the beautiful brunette, shook her head in disbelief and turned away, tears clouding her vision. She made it maybe two steps before she stopped and spun on her heel. She wasn't going to let him do this, to her or himself, anymore. Moving back in front of him she grabbed the collar of his golf shirt and literally pulled his mouth to hers.

The enigmatic Bugman let out a shocked moan of pleasure as she planted her mouth firmly on his. There was nothing shy or reticent about her kiss, it spoke of passion, promises and love. Gil Grissom stiffened completely under her ministrations, and the young woman clutching him began to seriously question her actions. Forcing her fingers free of his shirt, Sara went to pull away only - to feel two strong arms solidly wrap around her.

All pretense of uncertainty was gone now, fueled by a need both had denied for far too long. Mouths opened and tongues explored. One of Grissom's hands moved from the whisper soft satin of Sara's dress up to the silky curls on her head, and he held her in place, desire engraving itself into his soul. She tasted like breath mints and chocolate, and he experienced his first true epiphany; this was something he never wanted to end. But just as his mind formulated the thought, it did.

Sara was the first to break contact, her mouth mere inches from his, she whispered a hoarse "I'm sorry…" and stepped away. "That was out of line. I shouldn't have done it…" She repeated his earlier words and winked before turning. She'd reached the end of the shelves before she glanced over her shoulder at the look of supreme confusion on her boss' face. "But now we're even." She told him.

Her lithe body had disappeared out of Grissom's line of vision and around the shelves before he had managed to assimilate all of the emotions and thoughts colliding in his addled head. "Sara…" He caught her just as she was about to leave his office.

Turning she made no attempt to hide the chaos of feelings playing across, her face. Gil Grissom needed to know that he had hurt her; he needed to know that she desired him, and most importantly, he needed to be aware of the fact that she was terrified, too. "What…" She bit her bottom lip.

"The team…" He moved a little closer and tugged her back into his office in order to perpetuate some semblance of privacy. "They'll probably want to go out for breakfast after shift." Absently, the hand holding her wrist began to slide soothingly up and down her forearm. "They have questions. I was able to answer some of them, but the rest are yours. I didn't know how much you wanted to share."

She swallowed hard. "I guess it's time to face the music, huh?"

He nodded silently, but didn't let her go. "Since breakfast is gone…" He fought back the ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach and grinned. "Why don't we go to dinner?"

A brilliant smile lit Sara Sidle's face, and she looked to see if they were alone. Then leaning in, she kissed him lightly. "I'd like that…" She murmured into his mouth and then headed towards the locker room.

Finis…


End file.
